Trailing Blood
by Megalor9
Summary: To stamp out any thought of rebellion, to crush any strand of resistance against the Capitol, we need one of the bloodiest Games yet. When every single other tribute knows exactly how to kill you, it's never going to be easy for the tributes of the 175th Annual Hunger Games. Read, review, and cheer for your favorites as they fight to the death.
1. A Meeting of Power

**Trailing Blood, Chapter One**

**by Megalor9**

**A/N: So, what's up? I'm baaaaaack! And welcome to the 175th Annual Hunger Games! Yea, I know that my last story was postponed, but I have returned.**

**Now, it you remember the 175th Hunger Games, as some of you do, you might think this is a re-posted story. It isn't. I'm accepting new tributes, because I lost most of my old tributes. They're buried under too many messages.**

**But please, if you could, visit my profile for rules about submitting tributes, and a form. All forms must be PMed to me ASAP.**

**Every chapter needs story content. So I present to you, the prologue of these Games.**

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"Yo_ur newly elected President of Panem, President Caduceus Lysander!"_

The words kept echoing through Lysander's mind. Over and over. It was the greatest achievement he'd ever come up with. His parents would be proud. If they were still alive.

Why had he become President? There was nothing left for him to do. And it just sounded cool and all. He looked up to Empress Paylor as a kid, and once remembered saying in front of his first grade class, "When I grow up, I want to be the President!"

Of course, half the people said they wanted to be President.

But it was a rather relatively easy campaign to run. Lysander only had one opponent for the position. After someone found out that his opponent was a severe alcoholic, almost everyone supported him. He was the only really good choice.

The only reason he had one opponent was because everyone thought this year was cursed. The Games three years before had been the absolute worst, and almost everyone in the Capitol remembered the 150th Games. The tributes in the 172nd Games had deliberately committed suicide. All eight members of the Career pack, the final eight, all killed themselves at the same time. The tributes must have been friends, or something. There was no victor. The President of then, Calamity, left office and was never seen again.

The next two years were controlled by Peacekeeping force, as the Peacekeepers tried to stamp out any thoughts of rebellion. the whole country was under military rule. They waited for the next Quell to elect a new President.

All this crossed Lysander's mind as he straightened his tie for the strategy meeting. The Head Gamemaker requested that he be there, to hear whatever things they cooked up there.

Lysander worried that the Gamemakers had something especially brutal, then, planned for this year's tributes, whoever they might be. As much as he liked watching the Games as a kid, he never liked the Quells. They were the worst. He hated the brutal forms of torture used by the Gamemakers.

The door to his dressing room opened a crack, and a small kid entered. The kid, who Lysander nicknamed Bo, was his personal servant, chosen by him. Bo was fast, had a memory like a super-computer, and very smart. Always kept Lysander on time. Bo bowed in front of Lysander, then nodded.

Lysander nodded back, not sure exactly what the little kid was trying to tell him. Bo couldn't talk, he was an Avox. Seeing Lysander's confused face, Bo picked up a book from the counter.

It was his day planner. And at exactly 12:00, he had to go to the strategy meeting.

Ohhhhhhh, Lysander thought. He walked out of the room, thanking Bo as he went. Lysander fumbled through his suit coat pocket, finally finding his key ring. He looked through his keys, finding the one that looked like a square box. On the wall, right next to a painting of the Capitol at sunset, he gently tapped the box against the wall.

Doors slid open, completely silent, completely secret. No way to detect them. It was an elevator, heading straight to the Gamemaker's room. Lysander stepped in, and the doors immediately snapped shut.

The elevator jerked downward such that made Lysander sick in the stomach, but eventually smoothed out. This thing went hundreds of feet below ground. Soft music played, and Lysander quickly changed it with a press of a button.

Minutes later, he emerged into the Gamemaker meeting room and control center. Assistants bustled about, a couple of them stopped in front of him and said, "Good morning, sir," before moving away to carry out whatever task they were going to do.

Lysander found the meeting room okay, and walked straight in to see 12 figures, all clothed in deep violet robes. Lysander was late, just by a little bit. They had already started. The head Gamemaker, who was a friend of Lysanders, was pointing to the main hologram at the center of the table. It showed a big green looking marble, and a plane.

"Good morning, Monty," Lysander said before taking a seat at the head of the table. "What brings me here?"

Monty, the Head Gamemaker, replied, "Well, what you see now is the arena, basically. This one has been in the process of making it since the 100th Hunger Games. I felt it about time to use. In light of recent events."

"Now, on stage eight, section four, we have this happening," Monty held up his omni-pen, and moved it towards the hologram until it touched the plane. Then, he dragged the pen towards the marble, and the plane followed his pen, until finally hitting the marble. The hologram shuddered a bit, and there was explosion noises from the computer.

"Of course, we don't plan to kill the tributes like that," Monty finished.

There were some nods of understanding, a couple of comments, then it was silent again.

"And Lysander, I think I should mention this, but we've, ah, modified the Quarter Quell a bit," Monty waved his hand over to a small box, containing note cards in it. They were all old and yellowed, except for one card, that was fresh and new. "To calm down the Districts, I think we're in time for a more bloodier Hunger Games than it should be." Monty smiled, a smile that all of a sudden seemed really creepy to Lysander...

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**Go to my profile for the twist, and submission rules. I will also have a tribute list there, so keep checking it!**

**'Till District One,**

**Megalor9**


	2. Knock 'em dead

**Megalor9, back again, and if you didn't know already, I hold the title for fastest updater in the world (Well, if not, then pretty darn close to fastest). I try to update at least two or three times a week, usually every two days. So you probably should put this story on alert if you haven't yet...**

**I realized that the Gamemaker meeting was never finished, plus, I needed a filler chapter, so I wrote this. Please review, and alert, favorite if you wish.**

**The NEXT chapter should be the beginning of District One. But to do that, I need all the tributes first. I would like some male tributes, and any female bloodbath ones. There are only three female spots left, 2 District 4 females, and 1 District 2 female.**

**Someone asked in reviews who the winner of the last Quell (200th Games) would be, and I don't know. The TOP THREE were Cruella, Yuu Kazuki, and Altair Dominiano**

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**Gamemaker meeting, part the second:**

"Whaddya mean, bloodier?" Lysander asked, confused and worried at Monty's last statement. Monty just hoped for 'a bloodier Games than it should be'. And that scared Lysander, greatened his fear for this year's tributes. _Forget your fear, _Lysander's dark side was speaking in him, _Presidents are supposed to be cruel, heartless monsters._

"I told you, I altered this year's Quarter Quell twist. Just to keep things interesting. And to take out the rebellion once and for all." Monty decidedly said.

"...But what is it?" Lysander asked. His nerves wouldn't calm down unless he knew.

"Oh, I thought it would be nice if _all _the tributes came into the arena prepared, trained, ready to win the Games. I mean, come on, we all know that the Career Districts train before the Games, some of them even start at young ages," Monty said, slowly walking around the table. "That's why they usually win."

"Isn't training illegal?" Lysander asked again. From the snickers of the other Gamemakers, he instantly knew that he had asked a stupid question.

Monty sighed, then came over to him and patted his shoulder. "I keep forgetting that you never held a government office before you became president. We try to keep the public of the Capitol in the dark about this fact, because... well... it make for a more interesting show if the Capitol THINKS that everyone is on the same playing level."

He continued, "But that's the whole point of the Quarter Quell. The playing field will be level. Everyone should be equal in their strength, and expertise with weapons."

Lysander thought, held his head with his hands. Why did they have to have meetings at midnight? Why not noon, when Lysander was actually awake? But the thought hit him straight in the head, and he understood the brutality of the Quell twist.

"You-You mean..."

"Yes. We're going to have all the tributes come from there."

"What? That's not fair! Those tributes always end up killing everyone else! The whole arena will have blood everywhere! It'll be like...like... I can't describe it." Lysander protested, obviously seeing wrong with the Gamemakers. He never saw the same as the past Presidents, who always wore a smirk, or a creepy smile, and smiled at the death of tributes. Maybe that's why people liked him, he smiled honestly, spoke his mind, and didn't like all the death.

Monty stared at him. "Look, I've known for forever. You were always the pushover when we were younger. Remember the hoverboard incident?"

Lysander smiled, then nodded. An inside joke. Him and Monty had found a hoverboard, a new technology of the time. It was just lying down on the streets. Totally new. So, what else would a couple of fifteen year old boys do? Of course they flew it. The two flew around the Capitol, above all the buildings, soaring through the sky, completely free. It was the best thing Lysander had ever done.

Until Monty crashed into an alley. He ran right into a gang, plowed through them, hit a straight brick wall. I soon rushed forth to grab the board. We must've pissed off the gang leader, because he had a gun and threatened to hit me with it. So, I immediately handed over the hoverboard.

Monty says I should've fought 'em. I don't think so.

"Yeah, I remember that."

"But you should know; we've never had a weak president. I assume you want to keep your job, compared to being a custodian. No President of Panem has ever become small and weak at the sight of killing."

Monty then leans in so only Lysander can hear, "So you better suck it up, because there will be blood."

Lysander nodded. If a true friend talks like that to you, you should probably believe them.

"Um, Monty, you were supposed to give an overview of the final arena for us." Another Gamemaker says as they stand up to speak. He wears the same purple robe as Monty, but doesn't have the golden pin of an eagle, that shows leadership.

"Ah, yes, the arena," Monty quickly changes the subject from Lysander, who is letting out a sigh of relief that all twelve Gamemakers aren't staring at him.

"Now, you all understand we basically have two different enviroments, right? Monty points back again to the green marble and the plane. "The planet, as you all know, should have the flora that Menitis designed on it, as it is a swamp-based enviroment, at a temperature of..."

This mindless scientific nonsense describing the 'swamp-based enviroment' was getting Lysander's brain tired. He could barely hear. He was so tired... Who cared about the arena? He certainly wasn't going to be in it...

_A Month Later:_

"Now, this is the most critical step in the Quell twist, okay Lysander? You must NOT, I repeat NOT make it obvious that we've changed it. A few observant people might realize this, as they might see the card. We've done our best to make it look older, but still, be careful what you say. Don't stutter at all, don't stop to think, nothing, got it?" Monty demanded as him and Lysander walked towards the backstage of the Grand.

Lysander nodded, followed along with Monty's words. He couldn't make it obvious that the rebellion was screwed. He couldn't make it obvious that things were going to get bloody. He had to persevere.

Too bad he had a bad case of stage fright. This was only his second time being on the Grand, the first time he didn't actually have to say much.

Lysander heard chanting outside, a loud voice, obviously the Head of Ceremonies, and even louder chanting. As they neared the Grand entrance, He could see neon flashing lights focused on the stage.

"Now, remember my words, and you'll be fi-" Monty's voice was cut off from Lysander's hearing, as an even greater voice came out.

"Ladies and Gentleman, I present to you the reader of the card, the one and only, your true elected President, Caduceus Lysander!"

"That's your cue, now go out, and knock 'em dead," Monty said, giving Lysander a playful punch to the shoulder.

_Knock them dead...Literally?_

Lysander walked up, as he had seen Paylor do on the last Quarter Quell, and stood at the microphone. A box was brought up, carried by none other than his other silent friend Bo. Bo had his knees shaking, but managed to walk over and open the box. Lysander pulled out the card in an envelope marked '175'.

From up close, Lysander could definitely see the card wasn't like the rest of them. It just didn't... he couldn't explain it, it didn't look old and yellowed enough. So he kept the card close to his body, trying not to let anyone see it. Like Monty said, no one must know what the Gamemakers have done.

"A-hem," Lysander coughed, bringing an eerie silence as he looked onto the whole population of the Capitol. Actually, the whole world.

"For the 175th Anniversary of the Hunger Games, to show the rebels that the Capitol is merciful and likes to keep things fair for all, the tributes of this year's Games will be chosen from the three Districts with the most vi-" Lysander all of a sudden had an urge to sneeze, and he did. Man, allergies.."Victors."

The five seconds of understanding washed throughout the crowd, and then there was cheering. More cheering. It felt like his presidential election. Lots of cheering. Made Lysander feel good, maybe good enough to forget that they were all cheering for the gruesome death of children...

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**Remember, I still need male tributes. Male tributes.**

**This really is the last chapter, till the reapings of District One.**

**Till then,**

**Megalor9**


	3. District One, reaping pt 1

**Yes, I collected all the tributes within five or so days. Is this a record? But what am I saying? It's time to actually kick this story off!**

**Yup, this is the first of many chapters to be posted. Well, that's a given, since I usually don't abandon my stories... (as in never.. haha) But I'll include the layout of the chapters here so no one is confused, and so I know what I'm doing:**

**There'll be four chapters for each District, I'll include two tributes within each chapter, and the chapters will detail reapings, goodbyes, train rides, and chariot rides. Probably in that order. Except District One will be all reapings, District Two will be goodbyes and train rides, and Four will be chariot rides and maybe some other stuff.**

**But that's generally how I'm going to try and do things.**

**Now, enough talking, but at the beginning of each chapter I'll state the tributes in it:**

**Barbie Westeros (**_**drinkthatliqourstore), **_**and Excalibur McTreaty (**_**Natsumikan r0cks and rules) **_**The whole tribute list should be on my profile. If not, then it grew legs and walked away..**

**~Megalor9**

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**Barbie Westeros, Age 17, District One**

"You're kidding me, right? She _honestly _wearing that thing to the reapings?"

"I know, girl, probably the ugliest dress I've ever seen in my life. Like that one that Aunt Anne gave me for Christmas last night, said she bought it from the Capitol. Well, the Capitol never makes anything bad, Auntie probably found that thing in a dumpster."

I giggle at the thought of picking out Christmas presents in a dumpster. A dumpster, of all things! That's what those people in Twelve do, if they even have Christmas there.

I tap my feet on the concrete floor of the training center, slowly watching the two sparring teens on the orange rubber mat just five feet away from me. Training centers are always hectic at this time of morning, everyone wants to cram in that extra bit of knowledge. I just want my chance to fight with Shaylee, who's sitting straight across the room from me. Waiting on the other team line.

The sword dueling is set up so that there are two lines, instead of one, for people who are fighting. I timed my position right so that I could get a chance to duel Shaylee. And maybe not care about the 'no maiming' rule that's set up.

But Topaz has been restless, waiting. We've waited an hour in line, mostly because big, hulking brutes like one of the current fighters right now would just push us over to get to the front.

I couldn't resist them, I mean come on? With my body form, I'd punch them and break my own fist.

But it didn't matter much compared to my excitement for today. I can finally live up to my sister. I can finally surpass her. I'll make her look like a fool today.

"So you're going to try and volunteer today, Barbie?" Topaz asks with a concerned voice.

"Well, of course yeah, I mean, my _sister _won at age seventeen, right?" I make sure to put poison in the word sister. As I usually do.

"Oh yeah, your sister was really good in her Games, I mean come on, she was one of the best in training, and she was destined to win it all," Topaz says with a small twinkle in her eyes, a spark of admiration. Ugh. I hate it when people look up to my sister and think, 'Wow, she's one of the best girls there are!'

But it's even worse that my sister's new job is teaching. Teaching training. she's now a regular attendee to this Training Center, but Sapphire doesn't train. she teaches how to kill other people. What a nice job to have.

This means I have to see her every day. Every. Day. Sapphire says it's because she's 'looking out for me', Mom says the same story, but honestly it just makes me more embarrassed, especially if I do something wrong. People'll say, "Hey aren't you related to a victor? How come you aren't any good?" and stuff like that.

Finally I see the older bigger brute guy knock the guy he's fighting, who isn't as strong or big as him, straight into the ground. And then hit the guy on the ground with the end of his sword.

"Okay, okay, break it up, you're done. Next!" the trainer guy tells the two fighters. They both leave, and it's my turn, oh joy.

I start picking up the safety equipment, ready to spar my enemy. Topaz yells, "Good luck, Barbie!" to encourage me some more. It doesn't matter. I'm already pumped for this.

I look towards my opponent, Shaylee, as I watch her almost forget to put the safety covering on her sword. Damn her, then.

"Finally come to get beat up today? You know you aren't better than I am," Shaylee taunts at me, trying to get me to attack first.

"You know I'm just as good as you are, girl," I shoot right back at her, through the face guard on my helmet.

"Then show me. Because you aren't. I've got twenty pounds and a whole more year of experience then you do."

"Okay!" I tell her as I lunge in with my sword. Just as I'm about to make contact, a voice comes over the training center intercom.

"Attention everyone. Attention everyone. The training center will be closing in five minutes. Please get your butts over to the reaping stage. Thank you." The intercom makes a crackling noise as the voice stops.

The groan of the people training is completely unanimous. But the owner of the facility, Husk... well... you don't want to disobey his orders. He'll hang you by the ears. Husk is big enough to pick up pretty much anyone.

I take off the training safety equipment, feeling defeated for not being able to beat Shaylee. Dammit. Why couldn't I just get like, five minutes to go at her? Why not just five measly minutes?

"Are you gonna walk with me, Barbie?" Topaz asks, and I agree to her. She's one of my only friends that would stay with me through anything. "Oh good," she says, "Can a couple of my friends come with us too?"

"Sure, why not?" I reply. Topaz has tons of her own friends, but I've never known them much at all. We start walking up the street, heading towards the reaping square.

"Barb, did you see that one guy that was sword fighting before us? The one that was knocked to the ground by the older guy? I swear, when he took off his helmet-"

"What?"

"He was a total hottie!" Topaz says with a small squeal.

"Awwww, I missed him, then. Too bad for me," I say. I mean, I haven't had a boyfriend for like three months now. It's time to start looking, at least.

"I've gotta find that guy again. I mean, I'm missing out!" Topaz giggles again. Along with some giggles from her friends, who suggest a fight to see who can date the guy.

They don't even know his name. Oh well.

Within minutes we're at the reaping square, and all five of us do the mandatory check-in that's required for the reapings. The usual, the prick of a finger, the blood print. Just to make sure everyone's attending this.

Topaz has the habit, I've noticed, of sucking on her finger after being pricked. Shows how tough she is. But I know Topaz could beat me with almost any weapon. She's one of the few best people in training.

"So you're not volunteering this year, right?" I ask her, just to make sure that we don't have to fight for a spot in these Games.

"No, I'm going to wait for next year. Because I'll be ready to win by then." Topaz replies with a smile.

We both take our places in the crowd of possible reaped girls. Most of them look anxious or excited, excited for everything. I have to get excited too. Because no way am I going to let anyone else volunteer.

I gotta get my mind set. Right now it's picturing the guy from training. Gotta focus. Focus... I'm going to win and be better than my sister ever was. Our family will be famous, and my parents will actually notice me.

"Welcome everyone to the reaping of the one hundred seventy fifth Hunger Games!" the escort, a tall man with a long brown beard speaks up. His beard even has stuff like jewelry in it. Weird.

"Now, as you know, there will be eight tributes from District One this year. Of course, we'll alternate the reapings, to go girl-boy- and so forth. So who's ready!"

The cheers from the crowd are the strange man's answer. "Great, I see we have an enthusiastic audience today. Now, we'll start with our first female tribute!"

The bearded man picks a small peice of paper out of the reaping bowl, and reads the name. "Aly-"

"I volunteer!" I hear several voices call out. Not many, about four others. I also yell, just a bit later, "I volunteer!"

Now, as is tradition in One, there's always a duel. So I have to find my opponent.

Two eighteen year old girls are fighting each other, and there's one more girl who's just strolling to the stage. With red hair... I know this girl. So, I dash forward and grab the back of her shirt, and pull down.

This motion pulls her down to the ground, cursing like a maniac, while I'm trying to scramble to a place where I can pin her. I see the girl's fist curve around, and hit me straight in the cheek.

I recoil a bit, surprised at the strength. I thought Shaylee didn't have any strength at all. When I turn back to her, I'm staring straight into the blue pupils of Shaylee. The girl who always hated me.

The moment of calm is over as she elbows me in the gut, making me fall back, and giving her the oppurtunity to pin my legs down, by sitting on top of me.

"See? I told you that you know nothing," Shaylee huffs out under her sharp breathing. "I. Am. Not. Going. To Lose. To a seventeen year old."

I can still win. Shaylee's hurt me bad enough, I'm sure to have some bruises. But I have to resort to drastic measures here. I reach up to Shaylee's hair and grab a handful of it. And yank it straight down.

I knew she'd react to that. Shaylee jumps, to try and get her hair back in order. I look at my fist to see that I actually pulled some of it out, entirely. Great.

I reach up again, pull some more hair, but this time with the intent to get the b*itch off of me. Shaylee falls to the ground with a scream, and I know I've won.

So, only thing left to do is walk up to the stage. And that's an easy thing to do. I sort of developed a limp, though, so I take my time. But I'm there, on the stage, I've just volunteered, I've just entered my life away at some game. Perfect.

**Excalibur McTreaty, age 17, District One**

I've got this guy where I want him. I'm in the perfect position to strike, now, there's nothing he can do to stop me.

My opponent and I are crossed, but I'm in the perfect position to strike and finish him off. It's easy to see the lines of people waiting for their chance to fight with swords and stuff.

But it's my time in the spotlight. I make the winning jab, hard to the left shoulder of the big brute I'm fighting, and immediately find myself tackled to the ground. What th-? Turns out in my look back to the lines, I missed that he was waiting for my attack.

Dang.

The older, brutal guy is about to jab his sword at my body when the trainer calls it done. Enough. The other guy won. Dammit. How'd I let something slip like that? How? How?

"Okay, okay, break it up, you're done. Next!" I roll up to my feet, and start taking off the training safety pads used for sword fighting. I lift the helmet off, throwing to the side of the orange rubber mat that I used to be standing on. I watch two girls get up and start putting on training equipment just as I leave, both of them glaring daggers at each other.

Another girl who was sitting next to one of the fighting girls is staring at me. Of course. They all fall for Excalibur McTreaty. I catch several eyes as I walk straight out of the training center and head for the reaping square. Great.

I was supposed to meet a friend or two outside the training center, but I guess they've given up on me, because they're gone. Probably to the reaping square, because where else? So I start off my walk heading over there, because there's no friend for me to meet up with.

About five minutes into my walk, someone taps my right shoulder. I quick turn around, only to hear stifled laughter. I don't see anyone. So I turn back around, feel another tap on my left shoulder. I spin around to the right, the opposite direction. I've seen this trick too many times. It's supposed to make you look foolish.

Oh wait. It already worked on me.

I turn to face the brute from training, along with a couple of his cronies. Now I have company, just swell.

"So, too tough for ya, Twinkle Toes?" the bigger one says as he flexes his huge arm muscle at me.

"No, I just chose to lose. I had to meet my friends, you know." I reply, matter-of-factly. Probably a mistake.

"Oh, so you had to run back under the cover of your friends. So sad, Excalibur, when you get all the girls you want but can't hold yourself in a fight. If I remember, isn't that how Jewel left you?" Brute Number Uno sneers at me.

Don't mention Jewel. The only girl I really cared for. She left me, broke up with me, after I fought another guy similar to this one at a reaping stage fight. that was only last year. I lost. Badly. Never saw her again.

"Don't mention her," I say with a grimace. "And just so you know, I'm going to volunteer this year."

"Oh really, Twinkle Toes, I expect you to beat out _me,"_ Brute Number Uno says while flexing his right bicep once again, "At the volunteering stage this year?"

"Don't worry, I will," I say as confidently as I can, which in all, is not very confident.

"I'd really enjoy seeing you try and fail miserably, Twinkle Toes."

Could they really stop calling me Twinkle Toes? That's my only thought when the posse of brutes sprints ahead, ready to volunteer. But somehow I've got to find a way in, a way into volunteering past those lugs.

Tradition in One is to have a duel with the future volunteers, without weapons, a mere competition of strength. So how can I beat Mr. Brute?

I tricked him, that's how. He's going to believe that there's no competition, that he'll win without a doubt. I'm stronger than I let on. This way, no one knows what they're up against. That'll be my strategy once I get into these Games.

Because I have to volunteer. There's nothing left for me to do back here in District One, except live the rest of my life out as a... pleaser of people. Not the charming kind.

I've had to use my body for money ever since my family died. All of them were wiped out in a typhoon while I was at school, age 12. Since then, I'd had my grandmother to take care of me, to help me through, until she died all of a sudden, from a stroke.

Now there's no reason for me to stay here, and once I win the Hunger Games I could definitely make a good living. So there's no way I shouldn't go. If people heard my story, they'd be begging me to win.

Argh, I always have to think of my family on reaping day. Always. The same flashback, to the time at the Justice Building where I got a medal because of the accident that killed my parents. I flip my gold chain necklace to see the pendant on the end. The pendant I usually hide inside my shirt, most of the time.

But I'm already there, already checked in at the reaping stage, and just waiting for the first name to be called. Then, I can volunteer.

"Welcome everyone to the reaping of the one hundred seventy fifth Hunger Games!" someone onstage speaks up. The boring speeches must be over.

I stop fiddling with the pendant on my neck and turn the way that all the crowds are turning, towards the stage. Where a man with a huge, braided, colored beard is speaking.

"Now as you know..." the man quickly describes how he's going to alternate the reapings, female, then male. And so forth.

"And our female tribute is Al-"

the man gets cut off my choruses of volunteers, a small choir of voices. Then, the fighting almost immediately breaks out, two pairs of girls wrestiling each other. One pair has the bigger girl punching the gut of the other repeatedly, the second pair has someone... pulling hair out of another girl.

Okaaaay...

But then one pair has finished fighting. The hair-pulling duel. The winner, a blonde girl with really perfect skin, steps up to the stage as the first female volunteer.

"I'm. Barbie Westeros. I'm the volunteer," the girl, Barbie, pants out, sort of out of breath with the fight. I recognize her from training, and she was the girl pulling the hair.

"Well, that's great, and good luck to you Barbie. Now, onto the male tributes!" the beard man says.

"Gal-"

"I VOLUNTEER!" I hear myself roar, along with several others, and tehn the fighting. Just like the females, but with more people fighting to win. I start running for the stage, trying to bypass the fighting if I could.

I turn around, and there's Brute Number One, staring right at me, and charging. I know I won't be able to stop this, so I start to position my arms to block the incoming blow.

All of a sudden, there's someone else after Brute. A bigger brute than he is. Amazing. I didn't think they could get any bigger.

But Brute Number One's eyes grow as big as saucers as the other boy smashes him into the ground seconds after I get a good look at his expression. Heh. I laugh more as I stroll onto the stage.

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**Tribute list is on my profile.**

**Now review! (I have short footnotes :)**

**'Till next chapter,**

**Megalor9**


	4. District One, reaping pt 2

**District One, reapings pt 2**

**A/N: Hello, and Megalor is back again. Just a notice, this is the last update before school for me starts. Since school starts, I'll probably be able to update less quick.. sadly, I know...**

**Thanks a billion to all those who review :) You spur my inspiration.**

**Just a reminder, but the tribute list is on my profile for those who haven't seen it yet.**

**And without further procrastination, I give you the second part of District One. The tributes and equally amazing authors are: Emile Crow (wjjmwmsn5) and Darkus Shimmers (Depths0fth3s3a).**

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**Emile Crow, age 18, District One**

"God dammit, I know what I'm going to wear for the reapings. Leave me alone, mother," I call down, to the nagging voice of my mother.

"But, it's a family dress, it's been worn for years, you know," she calls back, with her side of this argument.

"NO. I already told you, I'm wearing this, and you can't do anything about it," I yell back. These pointless arguments, where I'm always right, break out often here at the wonderful Crow household.

It's just that... well.. I'm not one to back down. If there's a fight, I'll have to join it, make a bigger deal of it. It's fun for me, at least. Try people's emotions. Besides, I was marked at birth to disagree with my parents. The only thing we can agree on is the fact that I can have as much time as I want to train. Except on reaping day.

I watch out the window as I see other kids either leaving or heading to one of the nearest training centers, getting in some time before the Games. Why couldn't I join them? I know for a fact my friends are already there, so why not me?

'Because it's a family occasion, reaping day is,' Is the argument that our parents have all the time. Family, they talk about, when they've been raising me for the sole purpose of the Games. That is my sole purpose. The Hunger Games is what I'm built for.

"Geez, Em, couldja keep it down, I'm trying to sleep," the voice comes from my left. Oh yes, Emmett. My brother. What torture I must go through to share a room with him.

"There's a half hour till the ceremony, Emmett," I tell him in a sweet voice. but he's already fast asleep. He has his eyes open, too, which is even creepier. And at night, he snores. Like a chainsaw.

Why couldn't I just have my older sister's room? Emmett is a total slob. And my sister isn't even AT the house most of the time, usually she's off at her boyfriend's house, where she usually stays there for nights.

But my parents have an arguement for everything. 'You never know when she'll come home, Emile.' Or, 'It's honorary that everyone has a room to sleep in.' Except me, because this house doesn't have enough money in it or space to keep three children.

There's always complaints here, it's a shaky family. Ever since our grandparents died, who were the second parents to us kids, we started getting... belligerent about stuff, usually pointless arguments like before.

Then my sister found a cute boy, and basically ran away from this family. Sure, she still visits us, but mostly she lives at her boyfriend's house, whose house is a lot bigger than ours. And his family is a lot richer, too.

I can imagine my sister pulling something like that over her boyfriend's eyes. Loving him just for his money. And being able to get away from our parents, and me.

"What are you doing Emmett? It's 9:15 and you're still not dressed?!" I hear an exclamation from the doorway to our shared room. Mom. At least, for once, she's not yelling at me for something.

I gladly take this as the opportunity to leave. As much as I'd like to watch mother scold Emmett on responsibility, it's probably good that I get going. Psh, Emmett thinks he owns responsibility, because as he says, 'I'm technically older than you are'. Oh well, if I was born minutes earlier, then I'd be rubbing it in his face too.

But I need Emmett too, because he's my only true friend. Well, he's my brother, how closer can you get? He's the only one I can rely on to NOT broadcast my secrets to the world. Because I need someone to tell them to. I can't stay locked up forever, completely mysterious to everyone else. Especially if I end up getting a boyfriend.

That is, if I can win the Hunger Games. Both me and Emmett were raised for it, after all, and we've taken turns volunteering each year, to see if one of us would get in. This way, we don't end up together in the Games, because then only one can win... Emmett failed last year and was plowed by some huge, even more muscular than he is type of guy, so it's my turn. And I'm confident that I'll win this.

Hopefully I don't have to fight any of my friends on the way there. Carry will probably volunteer, because she's just like that. And I don't want to fight Carry in the Games. Our friends made a pact not to volunteer this year if one of us did. So there won't be any fighting or guilt.

This was the year they would have more than one female tribute from One. I don't think anyone is unhappy about that, especially not the teenagers training, like me. But if everyone comes from a Career District, won't the fighting be brutal?

I'm cool with that, to. Brutality is my second nature. Pain, I have to administer pain to all the other tributes in the Games. That's how you win.

"Time to go!" My father calls from downstairs. "You don't want to be late!"

I spin around and jog to the front door, my white dress swirling around me. Yes, yes, yes! Reaping. What I've been training for is about to be put to the test.

Emmett is the last person to be ready, of course, the lazy slacker, and I leave without him, parents with me. Someone has to walk by themselves, for being too lazy on reaping day. Pity. He'll probably be late.

"You are going to volunteer, right Em? I mean, we don't want that training center membership to go to waste, right?" Dad says with a chuckle and a smile.

"Yea, I'm volunteering. I have a better chance this year. And I'll come home to you, don't worry," I say calmly and collected.

"Well, good luck to you, okay?" Dad says, as I notice that after twenty minutes of walking we're at the check-in gate, ready to have my fingerprint taken.

"Love you," Mom says quietly as I walk up to get my fingerprint down. In blood.

Did Mom just say, 'Love you?' What? I know she hates me, but is there a bone in her body that actually cares for me? Seriously? I ponder over this as I take my place in the front of the female tribute crowd. I got here with at least five minutes to kill.

And then a familiar face appears near mine. "Carry!" I exclaim, giving her a hug.

"Where were you?" Carry asks me, flinging her hair to the side.

"My parents," I say with exaggeration on the word, "Wouldn't let me come, because of the reaping being, quote, 'family time.'"

"aw, I was at training this morning. Sorry to hear that," Carry says quietly. She's always had a quiet tone of voice, always, and has been more of a background person than someone with millions of friends.

"Okay. Ready for the reaping?" I tell her, in an excited voice. I can hear the mayor ranting up on stage and know that it's almost tim for the reaping.

"Yes," is all Carry replies with, and then sinks back into the crowd a bit.

"What're you doing?" I ask, but I lost her face in the other eighteen year olds. Dang it. I thought I'd have someone else to share the boring-ness of the reaping prelude.

After what seems like an hour, the reaping actually begins. A bearded man comes up on stage and introduces himself, and explains how the reapings will be staggered out, boy, then girl, then boy... and so on.

Then, the first female name gets called. "Al-

"I volunteer!" The chorus echoes and the fighting begins. I take a quick assess of the people fighting seeing if anyone is a friend of mine or Carry's. Carry isn't out there, but Shay is. She's fighting some blonde girl, who is winning until the blonde starts pulling hair out.

Shay's a friend of Carry's, they're not close but still friends at least. So I watch, instead of running up there myself.

Eventually the blonde beats out Shay and runs up onstage. Her name, as I see it, is Barbie... I don't think I know her, but Shay is always saying mean things about her when she talks to Carry.

The next male tribute simply runs up onstage without any fighting at all. "Excalibur McTreaty, that's my name," he says with some exasperation. I look around, and half of the girls in the crowd are looking at him, in a big collective sigh. Ugh. He's not that hot at all, really.

"Our next female tribute is... Marianne Din-"

"I volunteer!" I yell out. I'm going for it now, definetly. No questions. I look to the face of Carry, and she nods. I start my run for the stage, when someone comes up from behind and pulls on m legs, forcing me to the ground.

"eh-" I turn to fcae my opponent, a stranger to me, some girl that's smaller than me. "Oh, no way you're beating me," I say as I reach up and jab her in the forearm, causing the girl to release my leg and rub her forearm. I take it as the oppurtunity to run for the stage.

Then my next opponent swing a wild punch aimed for my jaw. I duck it, and kick to my left, hitting something, something yelling in pain.

I know that yell. It's Carry. She's trying to volunteer as well. Well, sorry Carry, I can't let you. I can't let anyone in my family down, because this is my last year eligible.

Carry's face is in front of mine, now, as she hits me across the cheeck with a punch. Ah, this is it. I bring my fist and hit her right on the nose. Then, with my two hands and Carry reeling from my punch, I bring both my hands down on her ears, making a smacking sound that could be heard from miles away.

"Sorry, Carry," I try to sound sympathetic as I walk away from her. But no one's getting in the way of Emile Crow.

**Darkus Shimmers, age 15, District One**

I see them everywhere. Everywhere I go, they haunt me. Creatures with faces, flesh colored like my own, but twisted so none of the features. Crooked chins. Bug-eyes.

What did someone once call them? Muttations. Yes. I am haunted by mutts. Everywhere. Muttations of humans, and I'm the only one that can stop them.

They utter mean things to me, saying that I'm 'insane and delirious.' They put me in this place, the 'juvenile delinquent center.' To be haunted everyday by the mean Witch Chin, the guy that comes by and forces us to do things.

Why did I deserve this pain and torture? Why me? I haven't done anything wrong, I've been trying to kill these mutts whenever I get the chance to. I've succeeded, to, which makes me wonder why I'm in juvenile delinquent center. Why can't anyone else see I'm a hero, trying desperately to rid the world of it's mutts. I just need to find a way to kill them all. All of them.

I can use anything as a weapon. Forks, spoons, anything. If I'm put in a room with another one of the mutts, ones that are my size and the same height and age as me, Witch Chin usually finds them dead, or at least knocked out.

Witch Chin is the worst of them. He just won't go down. He wears some heavy armor, that reflects whatever I try to do to him. And he laughs, and his chin, completely bent out of shape, just scares me.

Killing is correct. That's why I must do it. No one sees me as a hero, but I still try and keep up a smile, always, there's a smile on my face. Nothing in the world could rid me of my smile, a wide smirk that's on my face whenever, when I'm killing or just walking.

Today, in the morning, Witch Chin came in and told me and the mutts that we'd have to go somewhere, for a chance to compete in the Hunger Games. I've seen the Hunger Games before, where they pull it up on television for us to watch. There's lots of killing, and many other non-human muttations.

That sounds perfect for me. I can do both, mutts and killing. And if it's a TV show, then I can show the world that I AM a hero to them, and they shouldn't be so cruel to me. The things that run the juvenile detention center are cruel and unyielding, and they don't give us enough food to sustain ourselves. I'm always hungry. The white walls of my prison container don't help, they just make me long for food more.

Now Witch Chin is making a huge group, gesturing for everyone to get in line to go to the square. I guess that's where you get to enter the Hunger Games. He's explaining stuff about rules, about how not to harm the other people. "And if you really want to go to the Hunger Games, just say I volunteer when they call out the names. Now let's move!" I see other mutts come out that have the same armor as Witch Chin, and they start leading me and the other juveniles out of the facility. Wait, I'm going out of the facility! Yes! I can escape from here now that I'm out on the street, and all I have to do is stab the mutt-guard next to me with my weapon, and then I'm free!

I lunge at the guard, with a rock I've spent weeks getting sharp and attack him. There's a scuffle, as I push the mutt-guard to the ground and try to break through his armor with the rock. I see other mutt-guards try and come at me, but there's no use, I've got this guy down. I repeatedly bash the rock into the mutts skull, as hard as I can, because it's helmet has fallen off it's head.

"Die, already!" I yell, but there's two more guards that reach down and pick me up, standing me back up, and holding may arms. They press hard on my hands, forcing me to drop the rock I was holding.

I look upon the mutts I just attacked, and see blood running from cuts on it's flesh skull. It's not moving. I think I might just have killed it.

Great, this is great, another one! But I realize I have no weapon and now am being held tight and basically dragged along the city street.

I hear screams as the other mutts on the street look upon the dead one. One of their kind, dead. And they see me, the hero, they should all respect me.

I hear one of the guards tell the other, "Don't worry, he's just knocked out," and the other guard walks over to the dead mutt and picks him up. He's not dead? I thought I killed him, he deserves to be dead.

Now they've lead us all to a strange, otherworldly place, full of the mutts. I see now, Witch Chin had to torture us by bringing us here. To fight all the mutts, kill them all. All. ALL. I'm immobilized now by the guards, but I can escape, then I can get to them all.

I struggle, but it's not enough. I can't break loose of the guard's hold on me. There's a guy up on a stage, giving some speech, while there are crowds of boy-mutts and girl-mutts. Then another guy comes onstage, with two glass bowls. That guy has a really long beard, with lots of braids and jewels in it.

The guards sit me down in my own personal chair. I've got a front row view of the stage. "Now you listen to me, punk, you don't get out of this chair unless you're volunteering for the Hunger Games. And please do that, it would at least get you out of my sight," Witch Chin leans down and speaks to me in a sharp, angry whisper. "If you get out and hurt anyone, then you'll be killed within a second."

I see some of the crowd staring at me, and even laughing at me a little. the guy onstage is pulling something out of the glass reaping bowl, a name, the name "Al-"

Then a ton of girls stick their hands up to yell, "I VOLUNTEER!" And then the fighting starts. I want to join in, but the guy told me not to get out of the chair...

The girl-mutts keep fighting till a blond one wins out and comes on stage, saying her name is Barbie Westeros. Then some guys fight, and Excalibur gets picked. More fighting, always more fighting. I'm supposed to volunteer soon.

I'll get a chance to kill those mutts. And then I'd be respected.

The bearded guy on stage says, "And for our next male tribute, we have... Valentino-"

"I VOLUNTEER!" I roar out, and start walking up to the stage, grinning all the while at the crowd. I see some other boys about to volunteer instead of me. But I look at them, hate in my eyes, stare them down. No one offers to volunteer after that.

I walk up on stage and come up to the bearded man. "And what's your name?" Beard Man says, a little shakily.

"I'm... Darkus..." I resist the urge to lunge at the bearded man.

"Any last name?"

"...Shimmers..."

I'll kill them all. All the mutts I'm competing against.

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**Okay... I especially have fun writing Darkus in the future. Anyone else like him? Anyone like Emile?**

**As I said before, school starts, and I'll update less frequent.**

**'Till next time,**

**Megalor9**


	5. District One, reaping pt 3

**UPDATE!**

**Yeah, I finally got around to writing this, because learning a new schedule has been sorta hectic for me... Anyhow, I hope you're not raging that I haven't updated. Now, I'll still be able to update every week. Probably every weekend.**

**If you haven't seen this story, I advise you check out the fic **_**Blood Dreams.**_**I know I've mentioned it before, but it's a collaboration story, nearing the start of the actual Games part. I was sorta kinda forced to advertise this :) If these type of collaborations sound cool to you and you'd like to participate in one, PM me.**

**And now, without further ado, ranting, or facewalling because I haven't updated, the third part of District One, with Yuu Kazuki Trieze, and Xaders 'Zel' (because I am NOT spelling out his full name :)**

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**Yuu Kazuki Trieze, District One female, age 16**

I touch the tip of the pen to the blank paper, making a small spot of ink appear. Within seconds, my arm flies across, left and right, roughly sketching out a drawing of a... train. I had meant for it to be a crane, a type of bird, but it turned out as a train.

A train probably looks better than any bird I can draw. I start adding details to my small sketch of a train, lines, lights, a guy in the window. All basic drawing stuff.

I look out the bedroom window to see a swarm of people typical at District One on a certain day of the year. The reaping day. There is no way anyone would want to miss it. It gives us a chance to test our wits, and it's all about honor, too. It proves your family is the best, the toughest.

When last year's District One tribute was killed in the bloodbath, it was like a wave of shame passed over the entire District. No one really wanted to talk much. The male was killed the third day, by infection. If you don't go down fighting in the Hunger Games, that's considered a disgrace, too.

With the extra tributes this year, people are starting to have a hope that One might have a victor again. One is usually taken as the weakest District, among the Careers.

Ha. We have more victors than all the District but Two.

I tip my head back, laughing a bit. I find myself doing that, just for the sake of it, and it just feels natural. People look at me like I'm a psychopath, like I'm strange or something. They're right, of course, but that's not really the point.

I start to hear yelling from across the hall in the living room. Dammit, I hate it when people yell, it strains my ears, makes it harder to think. I hate any noise. If only it could be more peaceful. I bring the black cloak of mine up around my body, pulling the hood over my head. This is how I dress, black shoes, black gloves, black tights. White top, only for contrast.

I pin on the locket behind my neck, the locket that holds the pictures of the only two things I really, truly care about. My twin, and my friend. Zel and Yoku.

Yoku is working, at the bakery, but I might be able to find Zel this morning. Maybe share some old reaping memories, knock off weird glances given to us by other people. See if he's volunteering or not. I'm probably not going to, not this year at least.

The yelling gets louder. Wait, that is Yoku. He's home. And yelling at somebody. I dash out of my room and run down to the living room to see what exactly is going on.

"Why are you yelling?" I ask him, demandingly.

"Trying to get rid of some teenagers," Yoku says, in a monotone voice, very low.

"We are teenagers, Yoku," I tell him, jokingly.

"No, I mean those teenagers, the ones who egged the house," Yoku says as he points to a small group of teenagers that are currently just walking away casually from our sidewalk.

"They WHAT?"I raise my voice. "EGGED THE HOUSE!?"

"Yes, they did. And they'll pay, right?" Yoku asks in the same monotone, deep voice.

"Oh yes," I say in a sudden whisper, completely different from my rage beforehand. No one can egg this house. This is my parent's house. It needs to be respected. They just egged a house where two teenagers live, by themselves, with no parent to protect them, living off of jobs and inheritance money.

I reach behind me towards the kitchen table for a knife. They'll pay. I'll get them. Enough people get murdered everyday in One, like at training centers, so I'm sure no one will mind a dead body, right?

I slip the knife into my hand, and my brother catches it. "No, no knives. We can figure something out, we can figure something out. Like revenge. I don't need to get in trouble with the law because you went psycho again and killed some people. They'd put us in a foster home or something."

I nod at his words, as they make perfect sense. I have gotten in trouble before with the police for aggressive... harming of people... I guess that's the nice way to say it.

But it's just too irresistible. I HAVE to harm them, make them pay... the animalistic revenge urges me to break out in a run off of our front door. When I'm at the fence of our small yard I extend my arm, sending the knife spinning through the air. End over end, it travels in slow motion until it hits one of the teens in the right arm.

The blood spurts everywhere, I hear yelling, lots of yelling, from my brother who has appeared right next to me in my bloodlust, gripping my arm like a lifeline. The other three teenagers run away from their wounded companion, I just have to laugh.

I walk over to the guy on the ground who I hit with the knife, he's writhing in pain but not dead yet. I prefer to keep him alive, just as a warning. I take the knife out with a jolt, and the teen yelps with even more pain than before. I chuckle again, but my brother stops me.

"I think we should go to the reaping," he says in a morbid voice, squeezing my arm, trying to bring me out of my crazy state.

I look at the teenagers running down the street. "Who's next?" I call mockingly to them.

"I think we should go to the reaping," Yoku repeats, right in my ear.

"Right," I reply, in a whisper.

I leave the teenager with the wounded arm on the ground, kicking him in the side. "Yuu," my brother warns again. "No killing, I already told you that."

"Why not?" I ask him as we both set off towards the square, Yoku still gripping my arm in case I try and kill anyone else. But it was a rhetorical question, I know I won't. I just have those bloodlust moments, when I get out of them, I'm like what happened? It just happens, is all I can say.

Within a half an hour I'm there at the reaping square, and my feet kill me. If only we could afford a car here in One, but we can't. We can't manage much just with the two of us, on our own. I have to work as a jewelry tester, Yoku has to bake stuff. And that's barely enough to keep us alive.

_It's all because of Dad, _I think to myself. _He left us after Mom was killed. _If I ever meet him, I'll kill him myself, no family relation between us.

"I'll see you afterwards, Yuu, don't kill anyone," Yoku says as he walks away from me, to stand with the group of guys waiting to be reaped, or volunteer.

"Tell Zel I said hi," I call back to him, and Yoku waves goodbye back.

Then it's all waiting from thereon out. Waiting for this stupid speech, stupid introductory video, all this stuff on how the Capitol is merciful even though they're killing eight kids from this District this year. The mayor makes a speech, hinting ever so slightly that he wants to see a victor come from this District this year.

The next part is the reapings, where an old man with a huge beard is drawing names. Not like the names matter or anything, girls immediately volunteer, first Barbie, then some Crow girl, there was a guy named Excalibur that gets picked after Barbie.

But what happens next is some young kid, maybe fourteen or fifteen, comes barging in to volunteer, and the surprising thing is no one gives him any trouble about volunteering. I look into the kid, Darkus's, eyes, and see something startling. He has that glint, that malicious glint that I've seen sometimes in myself when looking in a mirror, the glint that means he's out for blood. Extremely out for blood.

The next name gets called out, and by then I'm pacing back and forth on my feet, trying to outlast this stupid ceremony. It's killing me, standing up for a couple hours.

"Y-Yuu Kazuki Triez-" the bearded man calls out, and stuns me right there with a Peacekeeper gun. That's my name.

"I VOLUNTEER!" The girl next to me yells, but someone grabs her arm and whispers, but I can still hear her voice.

"You silly, that's the psycho bitch," the other girl whispers, and I'm again shot by a stun gun.

There's nothing else to do. I'd die if I tried to run. No one in the girl crowd would miss me that much.

"So, no volunteers, then?" the bearded man calls again, looking for me.

it's my turn to take the initiative. "Nope, there aren't any," I yell back, and start walking my way onto the reaping stage.

I check to make sure I've still got my new token, the locket.

**Xaders Zëlgholzchiks (if I spelled that right), District One, age 16**

I swing my slingshot around on the rubber strap part of it, like a pinwheel. That's enough to keep everyone out of my way. They need better traffic signs or something, cars are headed everywhere, through every street on reaping day, trying to get a good parking spot, yet there is still tons of people walking. How much more crowded can you get?

I could've taken my dad's car, but he was a little... drunk I guess, last night, and forgot me. He's been drinking too much for his own good. I think I've been drinking too much of his alcohol than is healthy for me.

We're usually on bad terms, me and my father, ever since either mom died or Veil died last year. Veil was amazing, a goody-two shoes, eighteen years old, and my father's favorite child out of the two of us. Of course he wanted the children to volunteer. So Veil did, and succeeded, and went to the Capitol.

I got a letter everyday from her. How training went, how the interviews were, and then she went to the arena. The arena... it was a pure toxic wasteland, with chemicals and all strewn everywhere... It drove tributes insane.

Some killed themselves by running off their plates. Some just went crazy when the gong rang, killing everything in sight. My sister was a casualty, a bloodbath casualty, and basically pissed off everyone in District One. She was killed by some strong bloke from twelve, who eventually ended up stabbing himself.

Thank goodness I haven't told my friend Yuu that my sister was in the last Games and died. She'd probably go psycho enough to board a train to Twelve, and massacre the lot of 'em.

Which is why I've been drinking more than should be possible for a sixteen year old. Sixteen year olds can't even have alcohol, so that's a lot. I think I inherited the cast-iron stomach of my father or something, because I haven't been drunk yet.

I pause to look in the bakery window as I pass by it. Usually I can find Yuu here, or at least her brother, who can tell me where she is. I'm just plain bored right now. Anything would beat walk alone. But the bakery is closed, with the lights turned out. No baked goods in the windows. All businesses close on reaping day, but none of them close during the winter, when there's tons of snow.

I get shoved in the shoulder by another guy, getting pushed against the bakery window. "Ack," I say, as I turn to the face of Mirror. And it's not my face, it's one of those types of guys, the type that hang around alleyways and form gangs and stuff, like me, sort of. But we don't get along. Just like all the others I don't get along with. I'm basically a pariah, outcasted from society. I like it.

"What the heck was that for, man?" I ask Mirror as I see he's joined by a couple other guys.

"Oh, sorry, didn't see you as I was fleeing for my life," Mirror says with an almost sarcastic tone. the other guys nod.

My first thought was, _How did they not see me? I'm freakin' tall! _But then he said he was fleeing for his life. "Did a wittle puppy dawg scare you?" I say in a baby-ish voice. I'm pretty sure this is going to be a fight anytime soon.

So, Mirror is a lot shorter than I am, but has two 6 foot tall bodyguards. Mirror's a lot more muscular than I am, but I've got speed on my side, and should be able to take them. The other two bodyguards, I might be able to stun one with my slingshot and dodge the other one.

I think as the fight plays out in my head. My grip tightens around my slingshot in my pocket. This will not end well.

"Hey, did you hear me?" Mirror asks extremely loudly, yelling.

"Uh... what did you say?" I ask. Must've missed it as I was planning out his defeat.

"I said we were running from a psycho who stabbed Glass, you dumbass! Weren't you listening, you mothe-"

I don't think my father would like to hear me repeat the next twenty-some words, even though he uses them everyday.

"Takes one to know one," I shoot back, using probably the oldest response you could possibly try. Wow. Need to think of something better next time. "A psycho, you say?" I immediately think of Yuu for a moment, but then realize there's probably a million psycho girls in District One. I see them every year at the city square.

"Yeah, she freakin' threw a table knife and hit Glass in the back. I'd run for the square, if I were you," Mirror says, and then in a strange twist of events, leaves.

Again I think of Yuu throwing a knife at Glass, but then think better of it. Every girl trains with knives in One. And there's enough psychos in the world that it probably wasn't her.

I keep walking to the square, but yet see another stabbing victim. It's a Peacekeeper, yelling from a wound to the chest that's bleeding all over the cement sidewalks. As before, there's too many insane people in this District. I'm wondering who was able to stab a Peacekeeper, that person must have some guts to do so.

And pass by the parking lot to see my dad's car right up near front. Makes sense, I heard him leave at three in the morning. Way before anyone else got up.

Maybe I should find my father. Maybe I shouldn't. Yeah, I shouldn't, I should jsut stand alone in the reaping crowd, waiting for the whole thing to be over...

Both options sound boring as hell. I just want some action, for once, in my boring life. Action other than people dying. I pass through the check-in gates of the reaping without a word. And I'm there, just as the mayor starts his speech about how District One has the grand opportunity to enter eight tribute this year.

"I'm finally glad that we'll be able to have a bloody good chance at a victor this year, right?" the mayor says, getting some claps from the crowd of adults. I'm steaming at this, he's obviously referring to how 'useless' Veil was. She was not useless, she was a great person.

As he finishes his speech with thunderous applause from the audience, I start plotting the mayor's downfall in my head, because there's nothing else to do and I can't find anyone like Mirror or Glass to annoy. I do spot the two six foot tall bodyguards in the front of the reaping crowd, so Mirror should be somewhere near that.

"Welcome everyone to the reaping of the 175th annual Hunger Games!" is the current news broadcast from the bearded man on stage. "Now, as you know, there will be eight tributes from District One this year. Of course, we'll alternate the reapings, to go girl-boy- and so forth. So who's ready!"

There is more cheering then there was for the mayor's speech on how District One sucked last year. "Great, I see we have an enthusiastic audience this morning. Ladies first!"

I watch as the first girl fights her way to the top of the stage, her name being Barbie. Then a guy, Excalibur, comes up from in front of me. The next girl, Emilie, also gets onto the stage before everyone else. And the next one surprised me... it was a kid. No one in the male crowd volunteered for this kid, a fourteen or fifteen year old who probably hadn't hit puberty yet. But he looked immediately like Yuu, with an evil glint in his eye that I used to laugh at when I saw it in Yuu. But his was darker, like his name, which was Darkus.

He'd be fun to fight against. because what else is there to do at the reaping, right now? I've got the hate of everyone in the District on me. I need to fix that, don't I?

Volunteer. I will volunteer.

When he calls the slip of paper for the next male, I immediately cry out, I VOLUNTEER! I start running, like so many others, and load my slingshot. I pick out the biggest opponent, who has tackled someone else, and fire my clay sling bullet at his temple. It connects with a crack, the boy is knocked out.

I focus my gaze on the stage where standing there is... Yuu? How'd she get called? It must've been when I wasn't paying any attention, when I was pondering volunteering.

Heck, this is fun. I go into full sprint mode, slowing down to hit yet another guy in the head with a sling bullet.

And the stage is mine. I trade glances with Yuu, wondering if she killed anyone to get to this stage.

* * *

**Good? Bad? Did I do these characters justice? Review and tell me :)**

**Again, expect the next chapter saturday or Sunday.**

**'Till then,**

**Megalor9**


	6. District One, reaping pt 4

**UPDATE:**

**And so the last part of District One begins. I feel like I should make a speech, but then again, we have so many amazing tributes to meet in Districts Two and Four (Not to say anything bad about One, though.)**

**So in District Two I will do some goodbyes to their loved families, and maybe a train ride or reaping to spice it up.**

**Four will cover the Chariots and Chariot Prep.**

**So, I can't talk any longer because I'm not random and don't know what to say. Read the chapter, and tell me your thoughts in a review.**

**Reviews improve tribute's chances of living longer, by just a little. Just so you know :)**

**Tributes this chapter: Metallic Gold Sterling **_**(XOXOFutureFrame) **_**and Kacyan Ciova **_**(Avakris)**_

**~Megalor9**

* * *

**Metallic Gold Sterling, age 15, District One**

"Do I have to go early? Can't I just stay inside and _wait _for the reapings?" I whine a little bit.

"NO, you have to. You'll be a victor one day, no doubt about it. You have the makings of one, unlike your sister, but that's something else. You can follow in my footsteps and become a legend. You. Are. Going. To. Training," Bronze Sterling, my father, commands forcefully.

**"**I'm sure everyone else is staying at home," I try and use a wimpier excuse.

"Psh," my dad says, "I bet everyone'll be there. Trying to be like you and me."

"Yeah, but I want to stay with my family," I whine at him again. I don't need to go to training. I'm already forced there every hour after school, so why should I have to go at five in the morning on reaping day?

If you took a poll of the amount of girls that hate doing training, then I'd be the one percent that hates it. I seriously don't like it. Kids tease me there, and I don't exactly have the body mass or strength or weight of any of the girls that actually train. So it's just plain difficult. And I hate it.

But my father, being a victor, is already got a goal set out for me, and that is to be the second victor in this family. He's already got it set that I should volunteer early. After all, he volunteered at age 14 and won the Games. And I? He was extremely angry at me after I failed to volunteer.

And now he basically threatens me with the fact that I need to volunteer this year. After all, he says, how could I fail, when they pick four female tributes from One?

"Ah, no. I'll go with you, if you need to be with your family so much," Dad says with a smile.

Being at training with a bunch of girls my age but a lot tougher than I am is bad enough. But being there with my parent? That would be like, torture. "No, you _definetly_don't need to come. Nope. Not at all."

"But you're still going to training, correct?"

There's no way to win. But no matter how much I want to keep fighting, or insult my father strongly, I had better agree. You can't win a fight with my dad. Probably because he's won the Hunger Games.

"I'll take that as a yes," he says, and shooes my out the door with my bag of supplies. "Have fun, see you at the reaping square at eight, okay?"

I sling the bag with my training equipment, all of it highest quality from my dad, over my shoulder. the bag ways virtually nothing on my body, made of super-light materials from the Capitol. Just like everything else the family owns.

Instead of taking a left turn on my street, which leads toward the square and the most top-notch training facility in the whole District, I take a right. No one needs to know, do they? I've got hours to kill, and training isn't my type of thing. I decide to just walk the town a bit.

After I take a few blocks of walking, I can already see some people on the streets pointing at me, probably uttering something. I get gossiped about a lot, seeing as I'm not the best and yet I'm the daughter of a victor. Totally unfair, because they don't even talk about my sister, who is even worse than I am, and would probably stab herself with a knife if she was given one. On accident, of course.

Everything is biased towards my sister. Everyone pushes me to a breaking point, during training and otherwise, and spoil Silver Starling, the idiot who calls herself my sister. She's got nothing that I don't have, but everybody calls her a hottie, while no one speaks at all about my beauty. Please. I am more beautiful than my sister. Definitely.

My sister gets dessert first, got extra money, got to graduate to the best school, and doesn't have to train. Not even when she was my age. She was raised as a trophy for men, like my mother, I'm sure of it. Breathtakingly beautiful, but not good at anything else.

So, it humors me to push others to their breaking point, with words, because those are as sharp as steel, when I wield them.

I stop by the bakery, usually to admire the cakes there, but the bakery is closed. After twenty minutes of walking through the main street, I see all the businesses are closed. All of them are closed, to watch kids get reaped to enter the stupid Hunger Games.

Why enter them when District One usually loses? I know I shouldn't say it aloud, some friend of my father could hear it, and tell him. But it's true, other Districts think that we are the weakest of the Career Districts. All of the tributes from One only care about fashion, that's the stereotype.

Or maybe the District One kids care about losing their life, like me.

Almost an hour of plain walking on my feet has gotten me tired. I could always just walk to the square and wait for the reapings, So I do so, because there's nothing else to do but go to training. And sure as hell I am not going to do that. The main street of town isn't that far away from the reaping square, it takes me ten minutes to walk there. But my feet still throb from pain.

The stage is being set up straight dead in the middle of the city square. Attendants are everywhere, setting up rooftop cameras, getting the check-in gates set up, and testing the mic and sounds systems. And then I see the mayor, speaking to the group of past victors, maybe discussing who will go and mentor this year.

Wait.. of past victors... means that my dad is there. I scan the group of about fifteen victors and find his face. Worst part is, he makes eye contact with me as he's in mid-sentence, talking to the mayor and gesturing with his hands.

I faintly hear from where I am "Hold on, I got to take care of something," come from my father's mouth, and he breaks free from the crowd of victors to go find me.

"Why the hell aren't you at training?" my father asks in a hushed, but fiercesome whisper.

"There was... there was a... a fire. Near the training center," I make up a lie on the whim. "I couldn't go in, there were Peacekeepers everywhere."

"Oh, are you hurt, then?" I can't believe it worked. "I don't remember a fire, I passed that building on the way here."

"It must've happened after you passed the building," I spurt out quickly.

"If that's the case, then you can stay here till the reaping. I'll let you sit in my chair on the stage until then."

Not only have a successfully pulled off a lie, I've also scored myself a VIP seat.

And in about an hour, after I've about died of boredom twice over, my father motions me to go and stand with the rest of the female volunteers. "Go," he commands, "You had better volunteer this year. Please. For my sake."

"I will," I say with a confident nod. I'll at least put up an effort for my father. Maybe even volunteer, because I hate him when he's angry.

The crowd of girls is large now, tons of people have gathered already. The mayor gets onstage and makes a speech about how proud he is of District One's tributes this year. Typical protocol for the reaping. Then a few victors make some speeches, but my father doesn't stand. Then it's time for the actual reaping. It's so long... I just want to get it over with.

Should I try to volunteer on the first female spot? Or the second? Maybe I should wait to the end, make my dad cry from anxiety as he waits for me to volunteer. Yeah, that's about right. I've got my plan set.

The first female wins a fight, followed by a male. It goes on like this for another tribute, some girl named Emilie Crow, who is followed by a totally evil kid... Who is that? Darkus, the kid who barely speaks his name and looks like he wants to strangle everyone. I've never seen Darkus in school, but he looks to be the same age as I am.

Then a girl gets reaped. Some girl named Yuu. I've never heard of her, but I hear some whispers in the crowd about her. She must be a psycho like Darkus. Maybe I'm... wrong to even attempt to volunteer.

When it's time to pull the next name out, I get myself in a running position. Everyone else will be yelling, "I volunteer," and then run, I can just pretend I said that and just run for the stage.

"The last female tribute is Demeter D-"

"I VOLUNTEER!" The cry goes out, then hands go up, and I'm already gone. No one expected me to have about a ten second head start on them.

Because I've already made it, while several of them are still fighting. I see tears of dissapointment, cries of unfairness. I shrug them off. Who cares about those losers? I think I've finally impressed my father.

Speaking of which, I walk over towards him. He whispers to me, "I'll be one of the mentors this year. And take this, here's your token." His hand presses into mine, and I feel a small metal object being placed there. I open it to find a diamond earring. Perfect. I take the earring already in my ear and replace it.

Now Capitol, here comes Metallic.

* * *

**Kacyan Ciova, Age 16, District One**

"I tell you, there will be guns this year! Promise!" Corix yells.

"Dude, they never put _guns _in the Hunger Games. Never. It's got to be bloody, not a bunch of tributes sniping each other from trees," I shoot back.

"But that would be your favorite thing to do!" Corix yells back. And he's right. I'd rather shoot someone than have to fight at close range.

"Yes, but they won't put guns in the Hunger Games. They haven't for seventy-five years."

"But-But- what about the last Quarter Quell? I've only seen it once, but didn't that psycho girl get a gun and shot someone out of a tree?"

"Yeah, but that was a sponsor gift, probably from some psychotic sponsor. Honestly. That girl couldn't aim at all. Probably the same idiotic sponsor gave that whip to the guy who threw it in a lake."

"But it was a gun! In the _Hunger Games_! Which proves my theory." Corix says with a decisive nod.

"No, it doesn't. It proves that you spend too much time daydreaming and training with guns. You should be training with conventional weapons. If you even know what those are," I tell him, quite fiercely.

"Says you! You ste-" I quick bring a hand up to Corix's mouth, silencing him. He resorts to a whisper. "You steal weapons from the training center.

"So? And quite, the center is right there," I point across the street, where the sounds of battle from the inside are ringing, steel against steel. But not as loud as before. People have been streaming out of the training center.

"Aren't we supposed to be waiting for Venicus?" Corix asks, quite innocently.

"No, you are. I'm waiting for Arcyne to come out so I can beat the shit out of him." I say monotonously.

"Well, true that."

"I know."

We spend the next few minutes in a silence, despite all the talking around the street of people walking to the reaping square. Just waiting, waiting for a friend and an enemy to come out of the training center. I hope it's the enemy, Arcyne Kierran. I've been wanting to stab the guy for a long time. He's the only one who can actually challenge me with intelligence. Basically, the only non-airhead in the District. Which makes us bitter rivals, because this District is only big enough for one sneaky, deceptive killer. And that's me.

I resort to blades to kill people. I'm no good with large weapons, such as bludgeons and axes, but small blades can do just as much damage as large ones. I conceal blades everywhere on me. I currently have seven knives hidden in pockets, shoes, one in a secret compartment I built inside my cap, and one currently in my hand as I spin it around.

Arcyne thinks poison is the best way to kill people, or traps. Frankly, traps and poison are unreliable, because people can develop immunity to poisons, and traps can backfire on yourself or some unknown force will activate it. But he's a nut, he builds huge traps in the training center and dares others to go in them.

After waiting twenty minutes, I give up. Hopefully I can beat up Arcyne at the reaping square, because he's not going to make it if he's still in the training center.

"C'mon, let's go," I motion for Corix to follow me.

"But I'm waiting for Venicus," he says in a whiny voice, mocking me.

"He'll just have to survive on his own," I say to him. Corix can be such a non-intelligent kid sometimes. And Vencius just annoys me, even though he's one of my friends. Vencius is the strong one in our friend group, but if I get in a fight with Arcyne, he never helps me out. Just plain annoying. Plus, Venicus doesn't want to even compete in the Hunger Games.

"May the odds be ever in your favor, Venicus," Corix says, bringing on a snicker from me. "So are you going to volunteer this year?"

"Hell to the yeah. I mean, it's a challenge this year, I'm not sure that any other year would've even presented a challenge to me. At all. Plus, I heard Arcyne is going to volunteer too."

"And you're going to beat him to it."

"Hopefully I can compete against him, if not, then I could just fight him at the reaping square," I tell my friend.

"I _sooooo_ want to see that fight," Corix says, dragging the so.

"And you won't volunteer?" I ask him

"No, I will try, but probably next year. I mean, I might just do it because I want a closer look at the Arcyne-Kacyan fight."

"And that's because there won't be guns this year in the Hunger Games?" I poke at him.

"Yeah, I know it. You'll just have to survive without one."

"I think I bloody well can."

After that, Corix just starts ranting about how he's going to ask a girl out after the reaping today. I know him, the girl will probably turn him down. Especially if he's going to use some pick-up line about the reaping.

But I focus and try to remember Arcyne's fighting style, because I'm going to have to fight him today. He prefers to use wild swings to throw someone off guard, have them block a total missed attack, then stab them. I can counter that, maybe flick out a blade in my sleeve or something. I'm sure, since he's such a goody-two-shoes, that he won't bring weapons to the reaping. He's too nice, always playing up an act for the adults.

It's a shame I'm not a good person like that. A _real shame_.

The only part I'm starting to get nervous as I stand in line to be checked in for the reaping is the possible thought of a weapons check. I know they take your blood print, but some years they have had... problems with Careers bringing weapons into the reaping square.

Will they use a metal-detector or something? That's the only thing that worries me. Most of my blades are hidden in a manner that makes them almost undetectable if someone just pats your arm, usually with padding or something.

And they must be confident enough, because after they poke my finger and I press down on the piece of paper, they let me straight through to the reaping crowd. Cocky, much? I become aware of Corix to my right again, I lost him in the frenzy of check-in.

"Well, this is it then?" he asks.

"Yeah. Do you need an inspirational speech or something?" I fire back, rolling my eyes as I look through the group of teens for Arcyne.

"Hey, bro, I'm not the one volunteering this year. That would be you," he says, shrugging. "Do _you _need an inspirational speech?"

"Yeah," I say, confidence dwindling a little bit as I look at the group of huge, muscular boys, the eighteen year olds.

"Okay. Defeat Arcyne. Kill everyone else with your awesomeness. How's that?"

"Just perfect," I say, heavily laying down the sarcasm.

"And may the odds be ever in your favor," Corix says with a laugh. "I'm gonna talk to Ven." Corix leaves.

I continue my search for Arcyne, but as he's a chicken, I know he wouldn't let his face being seen too easily. He's probably surrounded by the muscular people, so he won't be touched. I almost feel like a lost child in a store, searching every aisle for a parent. Except I'm trying to beat up the person I'm looking for.

But I still search until I hear fighting and screaming from around the stage. What? There's girls on the ground, wrestling, fighting, punching, normal cat fights. One of them eventually gets to the stage and I know the madness of the reaping has started.

So I stand back and watch the next male tribute run up on stage. I'm waiting, to see if Arcyne is anywhere, so I can strategize and such.

As the third male name is called up, I finally find Arcyne's face, in the rush that attempts to volunteer. He gets elbowed in the gut, on accident probably, but I still laugh at him. And he notices me, too, as he stands back up to come at me.

"Oh, didn't see you, you fell below my field of vision," I tell him, pointing a finger at him.

"Shut up. Next male name, it'll be you and me for the title of the best in One," Arcyne says, quite demandingly.

And after a girl named Metallic runs past all of the chicks, it's time for the last male tributes name. It's barely read off before Arcyne starts running.

I thought there was going to be a fight. I charge after him, trying to get near him enough so that I can grab onto his shirt. I pull him down my the neck, and we both hit the ground.

"Oh, so that's it," Arcyne says, as I work out a my left shoulder knife.

"Yes," I say, panting from the sprinting I just did to catch up to Arcyne. "I've been waiting for this for a while.

I make a cut in his cheek, a slight gash, not enough to seriously cause any harm to him. A light gash, as I roughly draw the number two into his left cheek. In red paint. I make masterpieces in my kills.

As a final touch, I sketch out a number sign next to the two. "That's a reminder not to mess with Kacyan," I say, quietly enough so only he can hear me, listening to the sounds of fist fighting around me.

"And this is a reminder not to speak of yourself in third person," Arcyne says, as he musters enough strength to push me off of him. I thought I had him pinned. Arcyne throws a wild haymaker that connects straight with my nose. Then he immediately takes that hand and clutches his scarred cheek.

My head rings from the blow, but I've got to be ahead of him. I can still move, I'm not paralyzed from the wound like he is. I keep running to the stage, or staggering, more like it. But my thoughts are ruined when I see one of those eighteen year old brutes is already walking up the steps.

No. I throw my knife, see it spin end over end and hit the brute in the side. Blood starts staining his clothes as a couple people scream. But it's my turn in the spotlight.

I walk up on stage, and pump my fist in the air. No matter how much I might be reeling, or how much the Capitol dislikes me for bringing a knife to the reaping.

I beat Arcyne. The boy who's been better than me for so long.

* * *

**Good ending for One, no? Review your thoughts on each tribute, or what you'll predict for District Two.**

**Now, I'm going to start alliance recommendations, so if you want an alliance, then PM the author you want an alliance with. Contact me, of course. And you might just want to watch the rest of the tributes get featured, too.**

**I'm also open for some Arena hazard ideas.**

**'Till District Two,**

**~Megalor9**


	7. District Two, goodbyes pt 1

**District Two! Yay! Finally I get to change Districts and write a couple new things down.**

**Anyhow, this begins the goodbyes part, so most of these District Two chapters will focus on the family members, so you know who will be hurt if any of these District Two tributes die.**

**There is a Career pack started up, I think by Depths0fth3s3a, creator of Darkus. Contact them, if you think your tribute would form the 'Ultimate' Career pack of all time. What an epic title.**

**But otherwise, keep reading and reviewing, and I'll keep updating, and let's just get started on the chapter! Today's tributes are relatively nice; they are Mesa Stone (**_**KPMellark) **_**and Blade Agawara (**_**Megalor9)**_

**~Megalor9**

* * *

**Mesa Stone, age 17, District Two**

What? What happened? My mind is still in a blur as I step off of the city square stage. What exactly happened? I didn't volunteer, I know I wouldn't dream of going into the Hunger Games. So how do I find myself up on the stage, then?

I notice another girl snickering, one of the ones who volunteered. She's laughing at me. So I must've done something stupid. The memory comes back almost immediately. I did do something stupid. I tried to resist the Peacekeepers.

I got reaped. But I didn't want to go off to my death quite yet. So when the Peacekeepers came to me to force me to the stage, I wouldn't go. I struggled for about five minutes before they grabbed hold of me.

But that's not as bad as that other guy, who was reaped last, and then fell off the stage. My head turns to still see his sprawled form being carried by the Peacekeepers, towards the Justice Building, like the rest of us. Time to say goodbye, I guess.

I'll write letters, letters to my family and friends, send them home before I go in the arena. I might even make it out. I could outsmart everyone else, because I do have the intelligence that Two lacks.

I'm pushed, more like it, into the Justice Building and into a private waiting room, or something like it. The room is plastered with paintings, some paintings of people fighting. Really old paintings, because the whole room reeks of dust. I have to brush dust off of a rickety wooden chair so I can sit down in it.

How are these Games going to play out? I of course didn't want to enter them, because with all the Career tributes this year, there will be tons of gore and death. And now I'm in my nightmare. Even worse than a nightmare, actually.

I wait for my family to come in, there's nothing else to do except look around the old storage room. I'll probably meet all of my family, and Ryan, and maybe Sage, too. I'd probably see Sage anyways in the Games.

Sage has been my friend for almost ever. She's smart, beautiful, and extremely deadly. She's only a year older than I am, but won the Hunger Games at age 15, three years ago. And Sage has famous lineage; her grandmother, the first Sage, was the victor of the 100th Hunger Games, where only female tributes competed. I'm going to bet that she's one of the mentors for District Two, which will at least give me one familiar face to see in the Capitol.

Ryan is just... I don't know what to feel with him. I've been friends with him all my life... Ugh, I just don't know if I should ask him out. I don't even know why I'm thinking about love life when I'm off to die in a week.

My first visitors are my family, of course. Just my adorable little brother, and my mother, who brushes clay dust off of her clothes. Our house is a run-down area near some clay mines, and the dust gets everywhere; there's no way to stop it. My mom keep the only fancy clothes we have, like the dress I'm wearing now, in plastic bags.

"Oh-" My mom starts before she just breaks down and cries. I let my tears loose too, I've been holding them in for too long. I'm about to fight to the death. The mention of it breaks my mother to pieces.

"Y-You'll win, right?" She stutters through sobs, but then just starts again.

I move my head in a slow nod, and hug my mom, patting her on the back. Something tugs on my dress, I turn to look at my five year old brother.

"Where you going?" he asks in an innocent voice.

"Somewhere, Jakey, somewhere life is difficult," I try to explain in the softest voice I can. "But I'll come home, somehow I'll come back home to you."

I had to give him hope. He's only a five year old. But my words have truth, I will come back home nevertheless. Maybe not alive, though.

"Okay," he says as he toddles off around the room to look for things to play with.

My mother immediately snaps into seriousness. "You will try, right? You'll try and outsmart them or come up with some way to win?"

"Of course. I don't give up." But somehow I don't feel convinced of that yet.

"Because my daughter won't give up. You're the daughter of a Peacekeeper, you'll be strong. So take this," My mother holds up a golden armband, with words engraved on it. "This was once mine. You'll need a whole lot more."

I look at the words and see _Strength _written on the band, in fancy cursive lettering. "Than-" I start to say, but instead show my thanks with a hug.

I don't break the hug until a Peacekeeper comes in to intervene.

"That was your last visitor," the Peacekeeper says, as he leaves the room with my mom in hand, and picking up my little brother Jakey.

I'll write letter to them. They will have something to remember me by. I walk out of the Justice Building and head to the train, not pausing at all to look at the cameras. Why not start writing now?

* * *

**Blade Agawara, age 18, District Two**

I get smacked in the back of the head. By what? I shake my head, open my eyes, and look at my surroundings. I'm in an office... at the Justice Building, because normal offices don't have fine velvet chairs. My head hurts like hell, a blistering migraine.

My attacker turns out to be my best bud. Really, his name is Buddy, or that's what we call him, anyways.

"What's up with that? Are you insane or something?" I snap at him, turning towards him.

"Well, you've been unconscious for a good damn while, might as well wake up now. You're saying goodbye to your friends and family. Which means you're only saying goodbye to me," Buddy explains back.

"What the _hell _happened?" I say, trying to find a memory of what happened that led up to me passing out. I can remember this morning perfectly clear, when I woke up, what I ate for breakfast, but all the memories stop two hours before the reaping...

Today's reaping day?! And did I just get reaped?

"I think you had a little too much liquor, man, because you passed out as soon as you got your named called for the Hunger Games."

"What? I got reaped?" The surprise is evident, I didn't expect this.

"Yeah, and everyone was too busy laughing at you to volunteer. I managed to wake you up and walk you to the stage, but then you fell off of it, and landed on your head."

I picture the moment. Yep, sounds about right. Gears click and turn off in my head. "Who gave me those drinks?"

"Me," Buddy says, looking down.

"Why, man?"

"I thought we were having fun, you know, it's both of our last years to be reaped at all. I thought we could use the alcohol as a transition into adulthood."

Buddy does have some truth, because at age nineteen you're allowed to drink alcohol, and I turn nineteen in a week... but now I'm in the Hunger Games. Could things get worse? I could like, die on my birthday. That would be ironic.

"But man, that stuff tasted good!" Buddy says. "Do you really not remember anything from today?"

"Nope. I don't think I exactly want to remember the whole population of District Two laughing at me," I shoot back.

"But it _was _funny, you gotta admit," Buddy says with his best intention to cheer me up. "Hey, here's the bottle opener." He tosses something through the air, and I catch it with one hand. It's just a simple token, really, a cork with a screw on it.

"I think I'll use a bottle opener for my token, yeah, that sounds legit enough," I say, puzzling why he gave me a bottle opener.

"Well, I didn't really have anything valuable for you to use, so I gave you that. Hope it's... good enough."

"It's the only thing I'll have from home except my body, but that's not exactly in good shape." I pull on my shirt, revealing the stomach flab I've been trying to get rid of for the last year.

I've trained since forever, but since last year, when I couldn't volunteer, I kind of lost interest in the whole idea of fighting to the death. But those years of training have added up, I'm now really strong, and can hold a fight with anyone and win it.

"Eh, you're better than most people. You could beat half of their asses, probably."

"True that," I say back.

A Peacekeeper comes in and interuppts Buddy's laughing as he again re-tells the events of the last hour. I can't help but think how we really didn't say anything sentimental in our conversation, like, 'Good Luck', or 'Win for me'. Why didn't he say anything like that?

Buddy's always been the joker of the District. He's pulled so many pranks, and often it was me that took the punishment for him. The lucky bastard. He's a good liar, and tricks tons of people. And I've always been the sidekick, the right-hand man, the shotgun.

Now I can beat anyone up, really. I would've volunteered except for my lack of interest of fighting to the death. Why do that when you have a chance at living and making a fortune, too? The whole idea of money is what attracted me, I've always been poor, or not had enough of life. My parents put me up to adoption. My adoptive parents were too abusive on me.

I rub a deep scar on the back of my neck.

So I've been living on my own now, working full-time shifts at a restaurant, trying to make enough to live. Buddy's had the same situation. I can't imagine where he found the money to get a fake identity and buy some white liquor.

It's off to the Hunger Games now, I guess. I could win it easily, I'm the buffer part of District Two, and have enough skills with a sword to kill someone. It would be easy. Why not just board the train now? I've got time to kill, and I've heard from past victors that you can order food and drink on the train. I'm famished. Maybe they can get some fancy Capitol medicine for this headache.

I walk out of the Justice Building and onto the train. There's no going back, but at least I'll get to keep a bottle opener with me. Could come in handy, maybe I could stab someone's eye out with it during the Games.

The inside of the dining car is very... red and velvety all over the place, like the Justice Building rooms. There are placemats already set out at a long table, one for each tribute, mentor, and the one escort. Poor escort, having to control eight bloodthirsty kids.

I spot an Avox coming in the room, and make a wave to him. "Hey, could you get me some... um... chicken, or something? I'm starving." The Avox nods, and turns to leave to what I can only guess is the kitchen.

But before he leaves, I make one last request.

"And could you bring me some of that fancy white liquor? Thanks."

What? I've got to take everything I see, now that I've got a chance of dying. And who couldn't resist the fun?

* * *

**I admit this is a shorter chapter than most, but I was really running myself ragged trying to get my iPad, which I use for all my writings, to work correctly. And I'll be extremely busy this coming week, so my hopes for a quick update are diminishing.**

**But how do you like these two characters? How many people knew I had a tribute? Review your thoughts, and thanks again for all of the reviews!**

**'Till next update,**

**~Megalor9**


	8. District Two, goodbyes pt 2

**UPDATE:**

**Second part of District Two, now. Not much to say 'bout this one, but I do like Auricula a lot, so see what you think. Thanks again for the reviews.**

**Tributes in today's update are Auricula ViPointe **_**(VividlyCloudyDreams) **_**and Cyrus Fitz **_**(FutureStarkidMember).**_

**Now to end my short authors note,**

**~Megalor9**

* * *

**Cyrus Fitz, District Two male, age 18**

"Oh my god," they said. "Here's the next victor," they said.

Because they're darn right. I am going to be the next victor. I remember the squeamish faces on the teens of District Two as soon as I volunteered. I didn't even have to fight anyone to get to my tribute position. The people of District Two basically elected me to be their victor. I could see the look on the girl, Mesa, her face was of downright sadness when I stepped up on stage. Becaues they all realized that they weren't going to come home.

I'll probably kill at least four of them. And four from all the other Districts. Because I'm just like that. Everyone I know, or most of them, tremble in fear when they see me. I'm just that tough.

I'm the huge guy with the most buff physique you've ever seen. I've trained since I was a mere age of 5. Yes, I've been training for thirteen years, and it's left me completely ripped.

And I've got complete confidence in my abilities. Which is why I'm not taking a token with me. I don't need luck to win these Games.

But I still have to wait for my parents in the District Two Justie Building. Why? Can't I get on the train now? Can't I just go to the Capitol now? I don't frankly care for my parents that much, really, because they never believed that I could train and win the Games.

I have to stop thinking like this, because I notice that in my room, my parents have entered. Just them, I'm an only child.

"Cyru-Cyrus, we never thought you'd actually go into the Games. We know you'll come back, right?" my mother starts to say.

"You really thought I wouldn't go into the Hunger Games? What kind of parents are you?" I find myself snap at them. They can't think I wasn't born to do this! I have to compete, it's my only goal right now.

"Ones that are trying to preserve the life of their son," my father says quite sternly, but I can obviously tell the wavering of his voice. He's seen me get angry. I tend to break windows.

"Well, you're not helping one bit! I've done fine on my own for so long! I've trained everyday since I was five, only to volunteer and win now! You can't do anything about it now! So go cry your hearts out! I'll come back!" I find myself yelling.

"Wha-?" my mother exclaims. She really hasn't seen me this angry before. I've only really gotten mad at my father, who used to sue the whip on me. But now that I'm a teen, they've gone all soft on me now.

"Look, you might as well leave now, because I don't need to hear anything you have to say. I'll win, of course, because who can compete with me?" I say this stubbornly and flex my arm muscles for them, just to be convincing.

"Can we at least give you a token? For luck? Here's my tie that I wore in college, it helped me on tests. I swear it was a lucky tie," my father says, and pulls an ugly green fabric that could technically be called a tie. It's old though, like it's been in storage for a long time.

No way would _I _be seen on television wearing _that_. I'd become the laughingstock of District Two, at least among the 16-18 year olds. Then my victory would mean nothing.

"No. I don't need luck. I've got biceps. I can totally win this whole thing. Plus, it's an ugly tie." My father seems hurt by my words. What else to say? I'm just pointing out both of my parent's stupidity right now. "What? It is!"

"Look, son, you're going to take it no matter what. That's an order," my father says, a hint of his Peacekeeper history coming into his voice. "Now."

"I'm not going to take a token. Tokens are for babies. Just leave, right now, please, and save me the time of pushing you two out the door," I shoot back.

My mother starts crying, pulling out a lace handkerchief to wipe her nose. My father moves to hug her, but then turns back to me. "You have no right to back-talk like that. Apologize to both of us."

"I don't think I will."

"Now. Apologize."

"No. I already told you. I'm independent." This whole exchange happens lightning fast.

"Do it."

"I SAID NO!" I scream. I reach over and my hand finds a lamp. I pick it up and throw it, intending to hit my dad in the stomach.

He instead lunges to the side, and the lamp crashes into the wall of the room, shattering to pieces. Dad stops to look at the pieces of white china that are now scattered around. "How dare you."

"You deserved it," I say, trying to calm down. I can't believe I'm trying to tear the Justice Building apart in my rage. The best thing to do would be to leave. So I stand up straight, and just plain walk from the room. Walk out of the Justice building early, and head towards the train station. I already see that Mesa girl stepping onto the train early, too.

It's time to win. I don't need my parents anymore. Time for a new life.

* * *

**Auricula ViPointe, District Two female, age 16**

Lucky thing that I got the room with the TV. I'm able to watch the reapings of District One now, so I can see exactly some of my competitors. I see the crazy guy volunteer, and a couple of airheaded girls there. Perfect. I bet we'll get along just great.

I've been playing my role for the Games for years, knowing that I'll get the chance to kill. I've been waiting to kill in the Games for so long. There will be blood spilled in a week. For now, I'll just have to act like those District One girls.

From the time I was twelve, I knew that I'd need to enter the Games. There's a feeling in me... and animalistic, bloodthirsty rage that has been festering inside me since I was born. I've had to keep it in for so long, that I'm starting to go crazy. To make sure no one figured out that I was completely nuts, I devised an alternate personality, my own special persona, just to hide this.

I'm a complete airhead. Or, at least I seem like it. I'm really good at playing the girly-girl card, and the I'm-going-to-volunteer-because-I'm-awesome card, and everyone buys the stuff. In a way, I've got everyone fooled. Except for a couple of people. the people walking into the room right now.

Alto walks into the room and tosses something at me. "Happy Birthday." He's wearing a dusty black suit, with a white dress shirt that's been tainted red in a couple of visible spots. Maybe it's blood, maybe it's from his red bowtie, which is also the exact same color as blood. "Now I hope you're not Ms. Girly-girl right now, because I can't put up with her."

"Don't worry, I'm not," I say as I catch the thing he threw at me. It's a package, and I unwrap it quickly, tossing the white wrapping paper to the side. It's a peridot, a gem, on a ring. "Jewelry?" I ask. "Do you think I'm in a nice mood?"

"Find the little button on the inside of the ring," he says. And I do, it's barely visible, and hidden by a pretty pattern on the inside of the steel or silver colored ring. I can't tell which color.

I press the button of it with my little finger, and the very top of the peridot gem pops off. Inside the gem is a hidden spike, that was concealed by the milkiness of the gem. "Clever," I say. "But won't they be able to confiscate it? I mean, a token can't be a weapon."

"Don't worry, they'll never find it. They're all grown up, ya see, and their fingers can't hit the button," Alto says with confidence.

"Did you make this?" I ask.

"Hell yeah. I got bored after being expelled from the training center, so I went into the hidden weapon inside a token business. I've had tons of buyers."

Alto was kicked out of the training center because he was simply too violent. I'd probably get kicked out too, but I'm cool enough to just hide my rage. Alto tore a training dummy apart with so much ferocity, and so quickly, that they just had to ban him, he was being a 'bad' influence. Which of course, means he's my true nature's best friend.

"Is Guais coming?" I ask. Guais is almost the exact same as Alto, and we're all best friends.

"No, he got arrested. Peacekeepers caught him pickpocketing some ladies purse. He couldn't come."

"Ah, and are there other people waiting to see me?"

"Yes, and they're very ecstatic."

Alto is talking about my other friends, my friends that my persona keeps. He hates them, and when I'm in a bad mood, I hate them too. They're exactly like my persona, a complete ditz, and annoy me so much to the point I just want to stab them all. Another one of District Two's Peacekeepers comes in and grabs Alto's arms, and force him out of the room. Without saying goodbye. Good. This is probably the way we both like it.

I quick find a mirror in the room. There's one hanging on a door, near an old wooden dresser. I check my hair, and realize it's been messed up. For the next few seconds I'm combing my hair like crazy, I have to get it straightened out before my friends come in and..

They're here. Both of them. Pliny and Fannia. The most airheaded girls District Two has to offer. I'm number three.

Pliny is... red. Her skin is dyed red. This is obviously some fashion trend straight from the Capitol, because I know she visits the Capitol frequently. As the mayor of District Two's daughter, she has to. And when I'm in my nice mood, I actually envy her for having so much. Pliny is also decked out in jewelry, golden rings, ear and lip piercings.

And Fannia, well, I can never look at her the same again. I keep flashing back to that moment yesterday, when I handed her that present for her sister... See, Fannia's sister was one of the strongest girls in Two, and was boasting about how she was going to volunteer this year. Even I have to admit that her sister would have beaten me at the volunteering stage. Which is why I gave her a poisoned necklace.

I got the necklace from Alto, of course, because he's just evil like that. But I had wrapped it up and put it in a box and gave it to Fannia, so she could give it to her sister. And she did, and her sister put the necklace on and immediately passed out, and went to the hospital. Alto had some kind of poison on it that made it activate when it touched skin.

And that gave me the clear path to volunteer.

I come to realize that both girls are clinging onto me, and crying their eyes out. "Oh- Aurie, you'll win, won't you? I mean, you've been training for so long and we've always r-respected you, so you'll win, right?" Fannia garbles out, tears in her eyes, and making long sentences.

"Yeah, she'll win," pipes up Pliny. "I get to go to the Capitol and watch her. Daddy said I could. And I'm going to bring back the new Javis line of makeup for us."

Fannia stops clinging onto me, and sniffles before saying, "You're getting that? I saw it in that Capitol magazine that you gave me, and it looked to die for!"

This is what puts me in my bad mood all the time. I want to just snap back, saying "And who's the one that can actually die here?" but I restrain my tongue, instead fake-cry and hug them both, and pretend to act interested in this new makeup.

"Are you sure it's that amazing?" I say in a more high-pitched voice than normal, then sniffle for effect.

"Yeah, and I heard that it was like, smear-free and cool stuff like that!" Fannia has stopped crying entirely just to talk about fashion.

"Oh really?" I pitch the question, which sends Fannia talking non-stop, fifteen hundred words per minute.

And she talks all the way until a Peacekeeper comes an pulls her away. Pliny, who was still hugging me, was pulled away and left a red stain on my otherwise light blue dress. Obviously her facial makeup wasn't smear-proof, because the mixture of her tears and makeup just stained my dress.

Oh well. I like the red. Reminds me of blood. I'll keep it there, to look tough, maybe. No, I have to play for the cameras. I have to be a fashion-centered airhead. There's a bathroom in the room, so I go over to the sink to wash my dress, trying best to remove the stain.

I don't have to keep this act up longer. Just a week, then when the first blood spills, I'll revert to my true nature.

* * *

**So, good chapter? Let me know thoughts in a review, and if you want any alliances, please message me.**

**Next up, I think we'll have to do Malificent. I have to write her character down.**

**'Till the next update,**

**~Megalor9**


	9. District Two, goodbyes pt 3

**UPDATE:**

**And here's District Two, part three. Nothing much to say, but I think that Malificent is the youngest tribute in this years Games.**

**Sometime I'll start working on and posting a HG parody fic, but I'm not sure when I'll put that story up on my profile. I also think I have a poll up on my profile, and encourage everyone to vote. It's on how many tributes should die in these Games's bloodbath, because I really can't decide.**

**This updates tributes are Malificent Deviousa (**_**Stardust Terrastar) **_**and Trin Maplegrove **_**(WizardWay)**_

**~Megalor9**

* * *

**Malificent Angelica Deviousa, age 14, District Two**

"Can't you just put me on the train already?" I whine.

"No, it's regulation that you're given time to bid farewell to your family and friends," The Peacekeeper answers with a calm, monotone voice.

"But... I don't want to say goodbye to them! I already said that this morning, before I volunteered!" I keep whining, dragging my feet as my arm is led into the Justice Building.

"Look, it's regulation that tributes are given time to bid farewell to their family and friends. That's literally what my manual says," The Peacekeeper retorts, keeping the same tone. He's just reading lines from his workbook, really.

"But I don't want to! They're cruel, vicious people!" I keep whining, though this does nothing to stop him. The Peacekeeper is just too strong for me. That's my only downfall, I'm not as strong as most people I fight.

"You have to go in the Justice Building. That's final," he says as he finds a closet and pushes me into it. "Wait here for your family."

Of all the rooms I could've gone in, it has to be a closet? Why? I mean, I know that since there are eight tributes, new Justice Building rooms would have to be used, but I thought they'd just build new rooms for us to be in. Not a closet.

Hardly rich at all, then. I've always assumed the mayor could do whatever he wanted to.

But why do I have to say goodbye to my family? I don't need either of my parents for the Games. They care for me, but I accepted it emptily, and showed no such empathy back to them. Because they're too naive for me, they don't come to realize what world we're living in. We're living in Panem, and in Panem, it's all about the blood.

I've been fascinated by the red substance ever since I was four years old, when I had accidentally ran over the family pet with the cart I was pushing. I swear killing Blossom-flower was an accident, but it happened, and as soon as I saw blood, I was changed. Now, I'm like a warrior. I've wanted to enter the Games because it'll give me a chance to kill some people. Spill some blood. I've done that a couple of times, at the training centers, I've been kicked out for 'not playing nice with the other children'. Actually, killing some of them. But my parents have always saved me from being put in a jail or mental prison. I probably should belong there.

I've kept the fact of the car 'accident' undercover forever. I just wanted to try and drive a car, and ended up running over some people. Fact is, I don't think I even cared that I killed both my sisters, because they got all the attention. The best part of that accident was that no one suspected me, a small, innocent face, and instead sued my father for bad driving. That's just my excuse to get out of most things, be a sweet innocent girl.

And my body shape accents that further. Even at fourteen, I still have that younger girl quality to my face, the overall roundness, lack of sleep marks, and that particular sadness in my eyes. It's great, and everyone buys it. I could get away with killing easily, which I've done about a dozen times. I'm also really slim, too, and they think that I'm poor and need help.

When someone knocks on the door and asks "Is this Malificent's room?" in a sweet voice, I know it's over for my patience. It's of course my mother, coming to say goodbye. I don't want to see her. She'll just break down. I hate her. Why couldn't she be in front of the car 'accident'?

Without any answer to her question, my mother walks into the door, slowly closing it. Then she breaks down and runs over to me, and grasps me into a tight hug.

I don't return the hug. I stand there and pretend to not notice her.

"Oh, Mal, why'd it have to be you? If your sisters were alive still... They would've volunteered for you," my mother starts her rant. But I'm pretty sure if my sisters were still alive, they'd want to kill me. "I'm so sorry, but I know you'll do good, b-b-b-cause you're from this family. And the Deviousa are always strong. Your father had it in you, and I know y-you've inherited it from him, right?"

"Of course," I say as sarcastically as I can. I really am not in the mood for a sob story right now. Now I tune out the next minutes of sobbing and crying, for it's really too much to describe. The questions my mother starts ranting, asking rhetorical questions to herself, and gripping tightly to my hand and nearly crushing the old wooden chair that I helped her into.

"You know, your grandfather w-w-was a victor, my father, that is. He won a long time ago... I can't remember when. Then I married your father-"

Yes, stuff like this is what I have to listen to for the next three minutes. It's near torture for my ears. I'm surprised I'm not deaf right now. But somehow the rants seem to relate to my father a lot. I'm sure she misses him, after he slowly drifted away into the local jail. After the 'accident' in which he was sued for bad driving, my father slowly began to drink more, hang out with the wrong crowd, and ended himself up in the District Two jail.

"And you'll try hard, I know it in my heart- it's a mother's instinct, you know, to feel their child's thoughts- And I can sense you're going to win the Games, right? So, can you take this with you?" I see my mother finishing her rant, and holding out her hand, and accidentally dropping it. I see a flash of gold. It's a coin, I realize, after picking up the gold disk. The words on it say Malificent, with a fancy Capitol symbol on it. "I-I have one of these for each of my children. This is yours. I was going to save it until you came of age, but now... you might not come of age. Oh, what am I saying, of course you'll come home to me. This coin will give you luck, because it's helped me all these years."

"Um..." Is all I say. But I try to imagine my poor mother, with coins that are engraved with each of her children's names. That must break her every day, to see her deceased children's names in front of her.

"Thank-" Are the last words I hear from my mother before Peacekeeper hands come from the door and pull her out, keeping me from her forever.

At least that's over with. I can keep this wonderful coin with my name on it. Maybe I could buy something in town with the coin.

I have no intention of winning. That's just an added bonus, really. I'm focused on the killing, because that's what I'm built for.

* * *

**Trin Maplegrove, age 18, District Two**

There's really nothing left for my life. the best method of self-suicide I could think of was volunteering for the Hunger Games, and that's probably the easiest, too. Why keep up with society, who think I'm a complete weirdo. I can't stand living like this anymore. So to the Capitol it is.

I stand waiting in a bland room for Ry. He's the only one left who can visit me. My father is always at work, barely supporting my family. My small family of two people, me and my father. I never see him, but the bills are always paid, so I know he's still living. My whole house is run-down, and the roof needs serious repairing. It smells like the sewer and dust, but I wouldn't trade it for any other place in the entire world. There are still places I remember, the one dent in the wall where I had crashed into when I was younger. The time where I had spilled paint on the bathroom floor when I was ten, when my father and I were giving the last coat of paint to the house I ever remember.

I've had countless bullying incidents, and I'm always the victim. I'm not the most muscular person in the District. And by the time I was twelve, when our school started to have training sessions, I was definitely not the biggest. People soon heard of the living conditions I was in, and started to pick on me. My social life has been a living hell, really.

The main offender is El, who has particularly made it her life's goal to torture me. She's rich, and basically gets anything she wants. Her mother was a victor. She's even related to the mayor.

And my so called nice 'classmates' have installed a fear in me, that will never be cured. They've basically given me depression, one that I cannot cure. I am still surprised I haven't killed myself by now. Someone's always found me, someone's almost always helped me. I'm glad for it, but I'm still going into the Hunger Games. There's nothing left for me, so why not just enter and get my death over with?

Part of me still nags at me, telling me to actually try to win. It tells me that I should prove them all wrong, and that death is actually unnecessary. If I won, then I would automatically gain the respect I need to stay alive. I counter myself with the fact that I'm definetly not as strong as that one other boy, Cyrus Fitz, the extremely buff one that volunteered just before me.

Cyrus had basically the whole population of District Two cheering for him, chanting that he would be the victor. I had nothing. When I stepped up on the stage, nothing was heard. I could hear a pin drop, if a pin was even dropped at the time.

Rye enters my room, slamming the door behind him, in the most peaceful way someone could slam a door. "So, you volunteered?"

"No, I'm just standing in the Justice Building for fun. What else do you think I did?" I say with sharpness. I'm just not in a good mood now.

"Calm down. Think of something else. That's your therapy, remember? Calm down, don't think about the Hunger Games or your life... just picture a forest or something," Rye says soothingly. This is what you want in a friend. Rye knows pretty much everything about me, what my symptoms are when I'm extremely pissed off.

"That's the point!I can barely get a good picture of a forest, because I have to work so much, and the Capitol keeps us all cooped up in the Districts! We don't need the Capitol!" I find myself ranting, quiet loudly. Who cares if they've got video cameras monitoring us. All of a sudden, the whole idea of the Hunger Games, and the Capitol and Districts seems unjust. I need a rebellion, that's what. A rebellion would help everything.

"Are you in your rebellious mood again? Please, the Capitol could squish any thoughts of rebellion. That's the whole point of the Quarter Quell, the one that you volunteered. To take away any hope of rebellion, because there'll be so much bloodshed."

"True, but there still needs to be a rebellion. I'm serious about this!"

"You know the Capitol is probably listening to this whole conversation, right?" Rye says.

"Of course. I knew that. Does it matter? In a few days I'll be dead, and they'll be happy again," I say back.

"Look, just take this, I'm pretty sure it can help you with your... you know... depression and all. And anger. It's a stress ball," he says, tossing a blue foam thing to me. I catch it in midair and immediately squeeze it, feeling the rubber against my hand.

"Stress balls? Really? I thought I was past this stage," I say, in an almost joking manner.

"Was that almost a joke? You said it too seriously, man," Rye says, with a small laugh.

This is why I enjoy Rye's company. I've completely forgot about being angry at the Capitol and the Games. He's completely calmed me down.

"I'm pretty sure once I leave you, I'll go insane on the other tributes," I say, trying to make another joke.

"Just one last word, Trin, one more. Try. Don't just step off your plate and take the coward's way of death. At least try to come back to District Two."

What he's asking me is tremendously difficult. I knew when I volunteered I was going to die. And better to just step off my plate early. But... I feel like I've cheated him, somehow. He's always done stuff to for me, and I don't think I've returned the favor. Plus, half of me wants to try and win.

"Of course I'll try. I might just succeed."

* * *

**Good chapter, yes? and I know all the goodbye chapters are turning out short for me, I don't know why... It's harder to write goodbyes than it is to write reapings. Let me know what you think of these characters in reviews, please, and thank you.**

**Remember, I do have the poll up on my profile. Please check it out, and vote. Also, I will put up my parody HG fic on my profile around the time of this update, so review that too.**

**'Till next update, whenever that is,**

**~Megalor9**


	10. District Two, goodbyes pt 4

**UPDATE TIME!**

**This is the last chapter for District Two, then it's onto District Four, where I will detail the Chariots and stuff like that. And some train riding. So keep tuned. My schedule si getting a lot busier, because winter sports are starting, and I'm on a swim team.**

**Thanks for all the reviews, because we hit 100. Good job, everyone. So keep 'em coming!**

**If you have any respect for your eyeballs, or if you want to live a long, happy life, than I suggest you do not look at this story. But if you are just plain bored, please check out my parody, OCFest, the 74th Hunger Games, which is now posted. And the poll, that will determine how many bloodbaths there will be in Trailing Blood.**

**'Till next time,**

**Megalor9**

* * *

**Aureliana Saunders, age 18, District Two**

And let the 175th annual Hunger Games begin!

That's the only message my mind has been playing over and over, ever since the moment I took the risk to volunteer. Hey, I've been waiting for the moment to volunteer for a while. It's taken a large amount of courage to volunteer. I'm still surprised at how I cbeat out all the other girls that were trying to volunteer. Especially Cicero and her gang, whose main goal was to beat the crap out of everyone else.

The events of the reaping fight that I took to volunteer replay again in my head. Cicero, Brown, and three other girls, all age 17, but some of the best in training, started to gain up on the other tributes. The girls weren't even focused on getting to the volunteer stage, they just wanted to harm many. Several people were escorted out with broken noses, ribs, bleeding wounds.

And I had the worst luck to fight Cicero. She's actually the best girl in training, and the current favorite to win the Games that she competes in. Cicero had me scrambling on the ground, crawling away from her, while she took swings at me with her fists.

I'm quite nimble, so I dodged the punches, except for a few that hit me straight in the face. When Cicero took out a pocket knife, I knew I was going to be sent to the hospital that day. Cicero isn't as insane as some girl like Malificent, and probably wouldn't kill me. But I can't tell with her, she's too arrogant and rude. Somehow in the fight, I managed to damage her nose with a kick.

And then I just made it. It was that easy. Just a kick to the face gave me the perfect escape route, and I've succeeded in volunteering. My family will be proud. So proud, that I'm doing this for them. I can't watch my brothers being raised the way they are now.

I see my family enter the room, and take note that all of our clothes are old. All of them have been used before, the only new clothes have been bought for my brothers, the twins, only twelve years old and eligible for the Hunger Games.

My father gives me a hug, which I return, patting him on the back. "So, you volunteered for us, right?"

"Of course I did. I did it for our family," I say.

"So honorable. You're my girl, aren't you?" he says, ruffling my hair. I think this moment is a little too cute for my mother, because she's already crying.

"Oh, come on, mom, I've been studying, training for this, and you shouldn't cry. You should be strong, right?"

"Yeah, I should, I should be stronger. But I'm not, that's the point," she says with a sniffle.

"You're going to win the Hunger Games, right?" one of the twins asks me. I can't tell them apart, as they're identical.

"You're Julius, right? I can't tell you two apart."

"No," the twin says.

The other one picks up his sentence. "I'm Julius." I've always laughed at them for doing that, how they have an innate ability to finish each other's sentences. "Hey, wasn't one of the guys that's going into the Hunger Games named Julius?"

"Yeah, I saw him," the other twin, not Julius, but Petro, says. "Hey, Auri, maybe you should ally with him and mix up his name with my name."

"Wouldn't that be just amazing," I say with heavy sarcasm.

"That would be totally amazing, I know," Petro says. "Of course I came up with it. I'm the smarter one."

"No, I'm smarter," Julius says.

"No, I am," Petro shoots back. Those are my brothers. Fighting when I'm going off to the Capitol, to the Hunger Games. I expected it.

I turn back to my parents. "Don't worry, I'll come back with loads of money. I haven't trained for five years for absolutely nothing. Of course I'll win. I'm one of the oldest."

"Yeah, because it took quite a bit of money to put you into training," my father says.

"I put every penny to good use. I'm deadly serious about my work," I tell him. Because when going into the Hunger Games, the only type of serious-ness is the deadly kind. "Don't have any doubts."

"I certainly won't. I'll even bet my money on you over the other girls that got reaped."

"You'd better. They're all younger, especially that Malificent one. She looked about the same size as the twins."

"Just good luck, that's all," he says, and leaves the room, dragging the two arguing twins with him. It looks a lot like the time where they were both dragged by their ears.

My mother is the last person still in the room. "Go on," I say. "I'll be fine. Did you see anyone else that was going to come in and visit me?"

"No- I don't think so. I didn't see anyone else lined up outside the room." And then she leaves. Her last words stick. I have no other visitors. Great. Why can't anyone else come and bid me luck? I think I'm going to need a lot of it.

I walk out the of the Justice Building room to the lobby, then out of the building. The train station is connected to the square, so it's not a far walk. But I do see the weaker looking kid, Julius, outside, just sitting on the steps to the Justice Building. He's holding his face in his hands.

"What's up?" I ask. Trying to be friendly, and maybe, just maybe, taking my brothers suggestion to ally with this one.

Julius's voice comes out in just a whisper. "Just-just go away, please?"

I'd normally be surprised, but since he's going to the Hunger Games as well, then he's probably sad. But during the reaping, he seemed to be confident when he volunteered. Now he looks almost like a wreck. "Okay," I say, then I walk over and onto the train that will take me to the Capitol.

* * *

**Julius August, age 17, District Two**

Yep, I thought I'd be proving something to anyone that I could step it up and volunteer. Attempting to volunteer would probably make me feel a lot more confident in myself, and would make some other people respect me, at least, for who I am. Never thought I'd actually succeed.

Now I just have to say goodbye to three people. Only one of them I actually want to talk to. Plus, I'm sitting in a boring old room, gently nursing my black eye with a ice bag that someone handed me after the reaping. Every time I touch it, it stings, badly. That's what happened when I got pushed to the ground by Cyrus, one of the guys who volunteered. My face hit another teen's boot, and bam. Black eye. I got laughed at, just for falling, and not getting a black eye the normal way, like in a fight. That got me enraged. I got up and punched the laughers in the gut.

That got them quiet.

But then, to make sure I didn't make a fool of myself, I attempted again, at the last slot, to volunteer. And whoop-de-doe, I succeeded at getting myself into the Hunger Games. I'm pretty sure the first thing I hear from my parent's mouth will be, 'Good job son, I never thought you had it in you!'.

Truth is, I've always been the weaker person. My lanky form, tall, but with no muscle, does not help. I should be more ripped than I am right now. But I don't train to just fight, I try and strategize, think up a plan, before I attempt anything stupid, like a fight. So now I'm much smarter than the other Careers, and a lot quicker and faster. And not a mindless killing machine.

But the smart ones never get much luck in the Games, from what I've noticed.

The people I at least want to say goodbye to enter the room. The only two people who don't mock me. Marble, and his sister Juno, are my only really two real friends. I suspect Juno considers me more than a friend, but I don't tell her that, yet. Marble, he's cool. He manages to hang out with me and still be an arrogant, brutish Career tribute.

"Good job, man, volunteering like that. You actually took a running start that time," he starts off, trying to lighten the mood. I see Juno is on the verge of tears.

"U-um, thanks," my stuttering problem becomes more obvious as I talk. My mind has gone into strategy mode, trying to think of strategies for the Games.

"Are you already thinking up plans?" Marble says as he looks straight into my face. I must look really spaced out right now.

"Sorta, I guess." I say, blanking out.

"Look, Juno here has something to give you, right?" Marble gives a nod to Juno, who comes forward and gives me something. A ring. A silver ring, that is.

Silver is mined in District Two. In fact, it's what's mined in the mine that my father owns, him being a victor and having loads of money. It's an odd reminder of him, in some way. I don't really want to be haunted by memories of my father's mine, but I accept the ring anyways, because it's Juno's.

"Well, this looks n-n-nice," I say, putting the ring on my finger and adjusting it a bit.

"So are you gonna win?" Marble asks.

"At least try to," I say, quite unconfidently.

"Stop being negative. I bet your intelligence could beat out most of the turkey dogs in the competition."

"Yeah, but according to the Games I've previously watched, I don't think it will. Intelligent people always end up dying."

"Then you'll just have to be the one that runs around killing the intelligent people, because then you'll win," Marble says decisively.

"Would I kill myself?"

"Try not to do that," he says with an honest laugh.

"Marble, why are you making jokes when Julius is about to go fight to the death?" Juno finally says something.

"Because, it should be a good ending for Julius if he dies. He should be happy."

"Juno, Marble, I'm still here, and I think I'm still alive." I say, probably one of the few jokes I've made in my lifetime.

Now Marble's cracked up. "You kill me, brother, you really do. Good luck and all that sappy stuff. I have to be at training in half an hour. See ya." Marble leaves the room, with Juno in tail. But before she leaves the room, Juno blows a kiss at me.

I watch them exit out of the Justice Building, from the window in my room. And I don't stop watching the outside world of District Two until I hear, "Good job, son, I never thought you had it in you," from behind me.

And it's Caesar August, my father. With my mother and my younger sister. All have come to say goodbye to me. And I can completely and accurately predict what my father says.

"I mean, I always knew you were a weak one, but I kept holding faith in you, and now look! My son, the next August victor, is standing in front of me. I mean, you'll do great things in life. Maybe become the mayor of District Two, or something." my father chuckles as he says this.

I did volunteer so that I would stop being called a weakling. And now my father is joking about it. He's calling me weak right in front of my face, even after I've volunteered. "Are you still calling me weak?" I say, anger rising in my voice. My father is one of the few people that can get me mad past my breaking point.

"Well, ya have to admit, you were. You still look the same, the scrawny, non-muscled boy you are right now, but at least I know you've got the spirit in you!"

"You're still calling me weak?! I thought that if I volunteered, then you'd stop being abusive to me, and stop calling me weak! I'm not weak! I have more strength than you, probably!" I yell.

"You think you have more strength than me? Fine then. Throw a punch," he challenges.

My rage follows through. I wind back and try to punch him as hard as I can. He catches my fist in midair with his left arm, and twists it. "Stop!" I yell. But he keeps twisting it, making my arm like liquid fire.

"STOP IT!" I say, and he releases. "Fine, you're stronger than me. But I have way more mental capacity than you do, at least."

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" Caesar says as his face contorts in rage.

My mother tries to offer me something. I bat her hand away. "I don't need a token. I already got one, from someone who at least cares about me." With that comment, I just leave the room.

I'm going to the Capitol now. Without any help from my family. And thank goodness Caesar isn't mentoring this year.

* * *

**Yup, there's your chapter. Now leave a review, yes? And I'll try and update as quick as I can, now.**


	11. District Four, train rides pt 1

**UPDATES! YAY!**

**Finally I got around to updating. Sorry for a wait, but I'm not abandoning this story. In fact, I'm going to try and update quicker for District Four.**

**Maybe. I'm really bad at keeping promises like this -_-**

**But here's District Four's chapter, which has the tribute I always wanted to write, Isis Vanity, and Adrianus Johan, by **_**ShadowDragon654 **_**and **_**Tinkerbell980**_**.**

**~Megalor9**

* * *

**Adrianus Johan, age 16, District Four**

"Um... servant, you forgot my spoon," I ask the person who just recently brought me dinner. I ordered some soup, and they didn't bring me a spoon. Pity, you'd think sercive would be a little better on a Capitol train.

"Why do you need a spoon? It's in a bread bowl. You can just sip it," my new partner from District Four says to me. Which one is it, Caleb or Thane, I won't know. I think that Caleb's the bigger one, the one who's speaking to me.

"Sorry, I just thought I could eat a little more decent than other people in District Four. I mean, come on, does your family even have spoons?" I say back, trying to make jokes. "You should enjoy the Capitol while you can."

"What-what did you say again?"

"You should enjoy the Capitol while you can, that's what," I tell Caleb. I took Caleb immediately from the start as someone who might challenge me. He's tall, big, strong, and eighteen. But he must be stupid, because he volunteered along with his brother. I mean, how stupid is that? Caleb and Thane are both competing in this years.

I could pick on them all I wanted to. It wasn't until one of the female tributes explained to me that Caleb and Thane were coming from a poor family, and that they both volunteered for a better chance at winning the prize that is called the Games. Both of them wanted to win for their family. So I really couldn't make any stupid jokes about them. But even if I did, they'd still be funny jokes.

"No, I meant, what did you say before you said that," Caleb booms in his deep voice.

"Caleb, I think you should calm down a bit," A voice comes from the new escort into the Hunger Games, that's taking the District Four kids to the Hunger Games this year, Prince. He's a moderately tall guy, with some strange violet-colored skin. He also sports a fine goatee on his chin, which the hair has been dyed almost exactly to match the rest of his body. Prince has too many piercings to count, and he's bald, which makes looking at a violet scalp is almost too hilarious.

But otherwise Prince is a pretty nice guy. But I respond to Caleb's question anyways. It's just a joke, and I'm absolutely sure that Caleb will still like me afterwards. After all, no one hates me, I'm mainly jocular, and I can basically do anything I want with little consequences. That's why my name is Adrianus.

"Oh, you mean that, Caleb. I asked if your family has any spoons in their house." I say with a laugh at the end.

"You did not just say that," Caleb says rising from his seat, balling his hands into fists.

"Woah, man, it was just a joke," I say, motioning with my hands for him to sit down. I never expected any violent reaction out of Caleb.

"You insulted my family? You can't do that," Caleb says, and starts to come at me.

"I said to calm down, Caleb," Prince says, standing in front of Caleb to block his path. Prince tries to push Caleb back, but Caleb's strength is too much for Prince. If you compared Prince's body build to anything, it would be a purple toothpick. Or it seems like it, as Caleb takes one hand and grabs Prince's head and shoves him aside. I hear Prince smack into the train car wall.

What? Everyone loves me. How can someone, anyone, be reacting violently to what I said? It was just a joke! I'm never serious around people. "Stop, Caleb," I say as I reach for whatever I could possibly use as a weapon against this brute.

"What're you going to do, pretty boy? All you are is a good looking tribute, you don't have the strength to back it up. And you insult people," Caleb says, as he keeps advancing on me. Thank goodness he was on the opposite end of the long table, otherwise he'd be right with me now.

My fingers close in on... guess what?... a spoon, that I didn't notice the servant bring. I quick put the spoon back and go for the knife that came with the silverware at the beginning. I have moderate strength, and I might be able to take this guy on, seriously, if it was one-on-one.

"I already told you, it was a joke. Here, have this spoon as a token of my apology, okay?" I toss the spoon to him. But he doesn't make a motion to catch it, and it bounces off of his chest and falls onto the floor.

I don't even see his fist coming. He's within arms reach when hist fist appears next to my face, and hits me straight in the side of the head. Which of course causes me to fall out of my chair and into the ground. That causes basically everyone at the table to break out in laughter, at me.

Even my pain is enjoyable.

I try and stand up, but the blow to my head makes me dizzy again, and I stumble, and fall straight into another wall. Which causes even more laughs from everyone else. this is jsut brilliant, I'm such a genius. When I finally do get back to my feet, I try and recover my fail with the worst line ever, "I meant to do that."

Runyon, the youngest male tribute who was reaped, laughs more at that statement, while most other people go back to eating their food. One of the mentors that's apparently from another District can't stop laughing, too. I didn't think that was even a good line.

But Caleb's face is a block fo granite. He should be in District Two. But he's completely devoid of expression. "Don't joke about my family again, hear me?"

"No, I can't, my ear is still ringing," I say, bringing back my jocular attitude. It's sort of true, my ear still is hurting from the punch.

"I said, don't joke about my family, ever, ever again."

"Fine then," I say, and as he turns and walks away, I slash at him with my knife. However, it only catches the back of the plain white t-shirt he was wearing, and leaves a gaping hole where the blade hit.

Caleb doesn't even turn around.

And I'm now having to change my whole belief. No one's ever dissed melike that. I've always been something important, and getting all the praise I need. With the Games, apparently, they don't really care about that stuff. I'll have to change my whole strategy, which was just to blow through these Games easily, with my likeable nature, but now I have to think. I'm not sure I can change that much, in such a short amount of time.

* * *

**Isis Vanity, age 16, District Four**

I tried not to laugh at the antics of tonights dinner. But it was irresistable. It was too darn funny. Caleb Storm just took out the escort and the tall, overconfident one, Adrianus, in the course of about five minutes. All over some dumb spoon, the shiny metal one that's now laying on the floor. Adrianus threw it.

Runyon, the guy that was sitting next to me, just burst out laughing. One of the mentors, from some other District, Logo, he couldn't stop laughing.

I stay behind to clean up the plates that my fellow 'companions' left me to deal with. Only one other girl stays behind to clean up, and she looks my age.

"Hi," she introduces herself. "I'm Reef Riptide. What's your name?"

This is a challenge for me. I try to be friendly and gain friends. I honestly put up a good effort to do so. But everyone that I'm nice too ends up hurting me in some way. Usually verbally.

But I force myself to smile and at least give Reef a name. "I'm Isis."

"Oh! You mean like the one ancient goddess I was studying in history about?"

"Sort of. I don't really act like her, though," I say. I'm not the same as my namesake. I'm fine with being normal, and not wanting power. But for me, the struggle is to be normal.

"So, are you...um... excited to..um go into the Games?" Reef asks, in a not-so-excited voice.

"No. I got reaped," I say. True. I would never want to go to the Games on my own free will. It's barbaric. Kids having to kill each other for the hope of money. Greed causes people to do horrid things. "Did you volunteer?"

"Sorta," Reef says. "I was forced to volunteer. But I think I can win. Do you think so?"

"I wouldn't count anything out," I say with a chuckle, because I know I defintely don't have a chance. This girl, however naive she is, could probably do better than me.

Then I realize I'm letting her get to me. The cuteness of Reef, her naive nature... All of it is coming into my brain and making me accept her as a friend. I have to shut that out. Any relationship I make is doomed from the start, and everyone ends up finding some way to pick on me.

I leave the room, leaving Reef asking why I'm leaving, and shrugging. Then I hear the words I've hated so much, "Strange girl." I don't like being called that. I hate it, in fact. I'm always labeled as strange, useless, and an outsider. It's installed depression in me, from so much bullying, teasing, and nagging from other kids.

It can even push me over the edge. I've gone off the deep end only twice, I think, because I can't remember what happens when I go completely insane. I end up blacking out, and when I wake up, I don't remember anything. It's bloodlust, and hatred that sets me off. I'm suprised I didn't flip out at the reaping, when, for some reason, no one even bothered to volunteer for me.

I expected that, of course. Everyone hates me. They want to see me die. I probably will end up dying. It's just a fact. I hold my face in my palm for a few minutes, getting some mixed stares from people still in my train car. Most of them have moved over to the other car, to watch the recap of the reapings today. The reapings would've been extra-long, since there were twelve kids from each District. Our District's reapings were at noon, a whole two hours earlier than what it usually is.

But I don't want to watch the recaps. Hatred for my fellow peers might set me spitting again, I could probably, with a weapon, kill someone in the train car. That's how much rage I have stored inside me, as someone once told me after I had one of those episodes. Plus, I don't want to get laughed at again. As soon as I was reaped, the kids of District Four were laughing their heads off. Pointing, calling me names, such as after our class did ancient history, the favorite name was, 'Isis, goddess of failure'. During the reaping, I could probably count at least twelve times when I heard that name being called out from the crowd of girls.

And then I cried, of all places. Right in front of the whole District. All of Panem now knows I'm weak. Everyone knows that I am most likely to die in the bloodbath, just like all the other weak Careers I've seen over the years.

* * *

**I know, I think this is a short chapter, but I was running low on inspiration. I promise I will do a lot more on Isis, when I write Capitol chapters. I love both of these characters, though.**

**Speaking of which, this story is almost to that point. When I get into the Capitol chapters, I'll post up a poll on my profile for the exact names of the tributes to die in the bloodbath.**

**So I'll try and get some more updates coming. I belive that I have the rest of this week off of school, like a vacation, so I should be able to get a *gasp* fast update.**

**~Megalor9**


	12. District Four, train rides pt 2

**UPDATE (again)**

**Halfway through District Four, and almost to the Capitol. I'm about to explode. I just really want to get to the Games.**

**When in the last chapter, I said that there would be a poll to determine wihch tributes died in the bloodbath. I decided to not do that. 'You' (the readers of this story) probably love all the characters and could not **_**ever **_**sentence one to die like that.**

**So I'll just pick who dies and all that.**

**Wasn't this a quick update? Tributes of this chapter are Runyon Ogilvy, and... Elvira Vinneria. I've decided to leave the Storm brothers and Luminesque and all of them for Chariots and stuff.**

**~Megalor9**

* * *

**Elvira Vinneria, age 15, District Four**

Those Peacekeepers must have files of me or something. They honestly think I'm that dangerous to have my own private compartment, with my own food. Away from all the others. I can only imagine that these trains were built for scum like me, and probably for all the Career Districts.

Because I'm sure I'm not the only psycho in Districts 1, 2, and 4. There are plenty of other weird, violent kids out there, probably some worse than me. All offset by the Games, or something. So of course the Capitol has 'special' privileges for us insane people. Such as, not being able to say goodbye to family, even though I doubt some insanes have family at all, including me. And our own private cell on the train, where we are kept, away from the others and prevented from making friends.

Hey, it's not like it's a secret that I'm mental. Pretty much everyone in the entire District of Four knows that Elvira Vinneria is a killer child, one of many from the Career Districts. In fact, I'm mostly sure there's a news article about me out there, saying how I was the only vicious one from Four this year.

I bet maybe two of the other reaped kids could out-vicious me, if that's even a word. Caleb, because he's really tall, and maybe that Isis girl. Everyone knows and has recorded some strange stuff that Isis has done, including killings, forgetting her own name and making up names for herself, and just general loopiness. But for some reason Isis has stayed out of what is called juvenile detention. Which has been my home away from home for a while.

"Do I ever get out of here?" I ask the Peacekeeper that's guarding the doorway to my cell, cough, I mean compartment. I can clearly see a white uniform blocking most of the crack in the door.

"Not until the Capitol. Special order," he answers, short and sweet.

"Seriously? I'll die of boredom," I say, with mock frustration. Maybe, just maybe I can get out of here, and meet my fellow tributes. In as non-violent of a way as possible.

"I am not authorized to let you out. That is all you need to know," he huffs back.

"Well, aren't you sweet," I say, sarcastically.

"I-" my captor starts to say something but ends up cutting it off. There's a long pause, maybe he's getting something. If he's left, then maybe... I try to open the door, but it's locked. I'm locked inside, making it feel more like a cell. I hear his voice come back with a question. "Do you need anything to drink or eat?"

My eyes glance back over to my plate, which has been lightly touched. The desserts have magically dissapeared off of it. But I haven't eaten or drank anything yet. I'm pretty sure the food quality will be the same as juvenile detention, just plain crappy. "NO. I DON'T NEED ANY FOOD FROM YOU!" I yell into the door, startling the Peacekeeper somewhat, because I see his uniform come off the door for a second.

"You don't need to yell," he says, quietly.

"AREN'T YOU SUPPOSED TO BE GUARDING, INSTEAD OF TALKING TO YOUR CAPTIVE?!" I yell even louder than before.

I throw my body weight against the door, which does nothing except freak the Peacekeeper out. I love mind games. This one is obviously new and has never delt with me in the past. The few people that 'take care' of me at the juvenile detention know that I'm extremely bi-polar, and shouldn't take any death threats or insults that come out of my mouth as serious.

Death threats from me are a very serious matter. They usually come true, somehow.

"You're right. I am not authorized to let you out. That is all you need to know," the Peacekeeper says, snapping immediately back into the automized machine like earlier.

I let a few moments pass, taking some time to slurp some of this orange soup that was laid in front of me for a meal. I guess it somewhat tastes like tomatoes, but it's not the best. The person who served it to me forgot a spoon. "So, captor, how is life going?" I ask in a normal voice, then taking another slurp of soup.

I smile even more. I am winning the mind games.

I hear him take a deep breath, and waiting ten seconds. Standard procedure for calming down nerves. Doesn't work for me, I can just attack people to get my rage over with. But it's clear he's ignoring me, because I don't get an answer. "Well, hey, I asked you a question, so ANSWER it," I say, rising my voice tone.

Still not answer from my captor. He's probably straining from using the gun that Peacekeepers normally carry. "ANSWER THE QUESTION ALREADY!" I yell, at the same tone as before.

I hear another set of footprints coming down from outside the door, the metal click of boots. Another Peacekeeper. Probably backup for this sorry excuse for a person who's guarding the door. I move over to the door so I can hear a conversation better, if there is one. And just my luck, the two fo them start whispering, thinking I can't hear them at all. Idiots.

The door guarder, the one I talked to early, starts off by whispering sharply, "Who is this girl? Why the hell is she so... weird?"

The newer one, who has a more nasally voice, whispers, "Just go with it. I once guarded the juvie. She's crazy, and threatens everything that moves. I saw her talking to a lamp once." I only talked to a lamp so I could freak out the new person in juvenile detention. "Just... don't do anything."

The captor, almost in a normal speaking voice, "This is going to be the longest ride in my entire life." Then he sighs. "When's my guarding shift over?"

"Six more hours, my friend," says the second Peacekeeper, who then walks away, chuckling.

I whisper in my own voice. "You know I could hear everything you said, right?"

"You could?" he sounds worried.

"Yep." This train ride could be a little more fun than I thought. With a gullible and mostly stupid guard, I could definetly have my own type of torture here.

* * *

**Runyon Ogilvy, age 15, District Four**

I'm trying to pick out my competitors one at a time. Reef seems mildly amiable, which made her a perfect pick to study. I'm going to have to learn about every single one of the tributes this year, which is why watching the recaps is going to be vital.

I try and please everyone. And to please everyone, you have to adapt to them. Like earlier, at the dinner, when everyone else laughed, I laughed, whenever Adrianus made a joke, I laughed at that too. People enjoy what they like best. So I'll have to talk and get to know each of my competitors, even if they're not so warm to me.

There was an attempt to speak to one of the Storm brothers, Thane, earlier before we got on the train. I asked him his name, age, what he liked to do during training. He completely shut me out. Only answered in a couple words, such as, 'My name is Thane.' That's the longest sentence he said to me. For training, he said, 'nothing'. So he's like.. a nerd, which means he's most likely going to be an easy kill for the rest of the competition.

But I stop Reef before she can walk into the other car to watch the recaps. "Hey, you're Reef, right? Nice job volunteering."

"oh... yeah, thanks. You too. You did volunteer, right?" Reef answers, clearly suprised that I just came out of the blue to talk to her.

"Yeah, I volunteered. I wanted to compete, how about you?" I ask, in such a mild way, no one could deny me. Reef is obviously extremely naive. Sympathy and a cute-ish voice will work well on her.

"Um.. I kind of want to watch the recap of the reapings," Reef says. Yes, this a random question and answer session, so she's probably creeped out.

"Right. Me too. Hey, I think I've seen you at the training place before. You like using the trident a lot?" I ask as I start to walk into the other car, making the jump between the dining car and the main train car.

"Yeah, I like the trident. What's your favorite weapon?" Reef asks, clearly warming up to me.

This is how Career tributes have conversations. It always turns to discussion of weapons. My personal weapon is just words. They can be pretty deadly if you use them correctly. But I just go with the moment, and say, "Well, I'm not that good at weapons, but I do like throwing knives."

This is a double bonus for me. Reef, being the jocular type she is, will probably go telling the other female tributes this fact, and then, everyone from District Four will think I suck at weapons. I'm not actually bad at most weapons. Tridents are the easiest for me. But it would be so much better to trick them into thinking I suck, right?

"Oh, sorry to hear that," Reef says, actually pitying me. "What's your favorite color?"

"Well, this is kind of random," I say, laughing a bit.

"For most of my friends, I want to know what their favorite color is. That's why I asked," Reef explains.

"You consider me a friend? When we're going into the Hunger Games?" I ask, which makes her giggle loudly. "My favorite color is green."

"Mine too!" Reef says, giggling some more. This girl is almost too naive, if that's possible.

I see that Adrianus is looking back over the chair he's sitting in, when all of the others are stuck watching the television for the recaps of the reapings. "Could you two stop making out or whatever back there? We're trying to watch the recaps!"

"We're not-" I start to say, but realize I've missed most of District One. On the television screen, there are already four tributes up on the stage, four reaped from District One. I walk over and pull over a chair so I can get a good view of the television. "Who got reaped?"

Adrianus answers, "Oh, the usual group from District One, the airheads, and this really psycho one named Darkus. He had some strange, wild looking eyes, there. He looks like that one girl from here... what was her name... wait, where is she?"

I hear a voice from a new tribute, that I haven't heard speak. Luminesque, who hasn't uttered a single word since the reaping, now says, "Her name's Elvira. The psycho one. She's probably got her own room, away from us." Luminesque is obviously the quiet type. So I should be quiet around her, too.

I stop to watch the rest of the recaps. There's another two tributes that get reaped from District One that have strange names, Yuu and... I can't even pronounce the guy's name. It starts with a 'Z', and is probably twenty letters long. It sounds foreign, even though everyone in Panem is born in Panem, and never leaves. Or nobody ever comes in.

The last girl from District One is unimpressive, but the guy... he's almost like me. Sneaky. Sneaky, smart people are dangerous. The guy has... a knife, or something, and stabbed someone. I can't believe that he was actually let into the square, because that.. makes absolutely no sense. I don't think the Capitol wants anyone with a knife running around the place.

He might be sneaky, but if someone offends the Capitol like that, they're most likely going to die. So I don't really have to worry about him.

District Two has even less threats, with the frist two girls seeming like no threat at all. One of the guys seems surprised that he actually made it to volunteer. Then, there's one, Cyrus Fitz, who's the muscle-bound jock that always comes from District Two. He's defintely got a chance.

"Hey, Caleb, you think you could take that guy," Adrianus says.

"I'd watch your mouth if I were you, Adrianus," Caleb says. "But yeah. I bet that guy couldn't take out anyone my size."

"Heck, I took out three people your size, once," Adrianus says, brushing off his shoulder. "It was easy."

Adrianus is easy to understand. He's overconfident, and brags a lot. He thinks everything is perfect for him. this was evident during the dinner, when he claimed it was 'just a joke'.

"I doubt you could even beat anyone Reef's size," Caleb says, grunting, and turning back to face the television.

The last two tributes from District Two are strange. One seems like... an airhead, one you'd typically find in District One. And the last one will certainly die. He falls off of the reaping stage, obviously drunk as heck.

And I experienced the last reaping of District Four myself. I'll learn more about the tributes by talking to them than watching a tape about them.

* * *

**Right then, here's your early update. Next chapter will be arriving at the Capitol, and Chariot Prep. Not much else to say, other than the Reef/Runyon pair is 99% doomed. Probably won't work out.**

**Keep reading and reviewing,**

**~Megalor9**


	13. District Four, chariot prep

**UPDATING:**

**Yep, third part of District Four, and this chapter is the prepping for the Chariot Rides. In this chapter, tribute wise, is Thane Storm and Luminesque Pigmy. If I spelled that right -_-.**

**Just a quick announcement, if you would like another good SYOT to submit to, try To Be Determined by Nalia-R. I'm sort of beta-ing for the story. I also have to advertise the collaboration story I'm working on, called Bound by Blood. If you want to join the collab, PM me.**

**And my short advertisement is over. Enjoy the chapter and remember to review. The poll on my profile is down for the number of people that might die in the bloodbath. I think the most voted number was 7, but I won't use that. If all the tributes are Careers, the bloodbath isn't going to be that low in casualties...**

**~Megalor9**

* * *

**Luminesque Pygmy, age 16, District Four**

"Alright then... I think we're at the Capitol," Prince tells me and the other two standing next to me. Reef and Adrianus. I'd rather be somewhere else than with these two, especially Adrianus. "So we'll need to get into groups. Did someone, like your mentors, tell you this yet?"

Adrianus says no, and I just shake my head. I don't understand what Prince means by groups. "Well, since the chariots were only designed for two people, everyone will have to be paired up in twos. Like... everyone has a District partner? Got it?"

I nod yes, but am surprised. I had assumed I'd be on the same chariot as the seven other tributes of District Four. It makes sense of the Capitol to do that, though, so I guess that's the plan.

"Okay, let me see who your partners are," Prince trails off as he looks at his clipboard, with several papers clipped to it. "Reef, you're with Runyon. Luminesque, oh, you're with Adrianus."

Reef runs off to find her partner, but I stay and glare. At Adrianus, because he's obviously of the type I hate. I don't like the snobs and people who are stuck up. Adrianus obviously made that impression on me at the dinner last night. And after the recaps, he made fun of my voice when volunteering yesterday. "Do you, like, have emotion at all?" I tried to punch him then and there, but he jumped away too quickly for me to do anything.

"So," Adrianus says, drawing out the 'o' in his word. "How're you doing, partner?"

I turn to Prince. "Do I really have to be this guy's partner? Why can't I be with Caleb or Thane?" I ask, my voice taking a light tone of urgency.

"Well, this is what the President wrote down for as the list. Is there a problem?" Prince asks, impossibly innocent. Prince must've seen what Adrianus did to Caleb last night.

"Umm... no, there isn't a problem," I say, calmer than before, but still shooting dagger glances at Adrianus, who is smirking.

"So I think this is it. See if you can get all the other tributes to come out here, to get off the train to the Capitol," Prince says, leaving with a hurry. Adrianus follows him.

I look out the window, getting a glimpse of the Capitol myself. In school, we learn that the Capitol was near destroyed in the Mockingjay Rebellion. But it's really impressive architecture, the arches, and the sheer massiveness of everything. The highest form of transport that I've used is boats, and some pretty fast boats, too. But in the Capitol, I see hovercrafts flying through the air, kids riding boards that seem to be floating in midair, high speed trains that rush over almost invisible tracks. The whole city is covered in some reflective material that makes it look like it's made of rainbows.

"Enjoying the view?" Adrianus's voice creeps up behind me. I turn around slowly.

"It's a lot better view than your face," I say, then turn back to the window.

"Don't be so harsh, Lumi," Adrianus says.

Did he just call me Lumi? He's going to be my first target. I make a mental note in my head. No, a mental annoying theme song, that will play over and over until I can't forget it at all.

I start to think up a comeback to that, but a door opens in the compartment where we were standing. The other tributes enter, with Reef almost giddy with excitement, Isis looking just like I am, sullen, bored, and Elvira, who is chatting to two Peacekeepers that are acting like bodyguards for her. And I haven't seen the Storm brothers smile yet. I can't blame them, they're brothers in a fight where only one can win. I certainly wouldn't want to go into the Games with my sisters, even though I've trained myself for it.

I get pushed out of the train and onto the landing platform of the train station, where millions of flashes hit my eyes. Cameras, people, just tons of people, everywhere. I could go blind from staring at all the cameras, so I instead face the ground. I might look depressed, but that's better than having the afterflash and blurry vision of the flashing lights.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Adrianus is hamming it up, waving, smiling, blowing kisses, long with Runyon and Reef doing the same thing. When the mentors come out of the train, there's even more noise, because the mentors are the favorites in the Capitol. My father comes off the train waving and smiling at everyone, playing up his part pretty well.

There are four cars for the tributes, so Adrianus and I get into one, while the other tribute pairs get into the other four cars. I get a quick glimpse, just for a second, of the tributes from the other Districts. That's why there was so much commotion, all the Districts got off at the same time. The car glides smoothly against the stone paved roads of the Capitol, and eventually stops at the Remake Center.

When I step into the Remake Center, it's immediately the most massive building I've ever set foot into. Many corridors branching off of a main room, gold everywhere. If it's fake gold or real, it doesn't matter. It's way better than the District Four Justice Building where I said goodbye to my parents.

A pale-white skinned attendant comes up to me. "And your name is?"

"Lumineque Pygmy," I say. This is probably my stylist I'm talking to.

"Oh, you and Adrianus will be seen in hallway F11, if you could head that way right now," the man says, and moves off to talk to Thane.

"Where's hallway F11?" Adrianus asks, in a voice that makes him sound absolutely stupid.

"The one with the sign F11 on it, idiot," I tell him, harshly.

"When did you get so harsh, geez," Adrianus says, with a smirk.

Him and I walk to the hallway and go through it, coming into two rooms. There are two men standing at the front of each room. both of them wear light red and yellow robes. "You must be Adrianus and..." the first man trails off.

"Luminesque, right?" the second man finishes the other mans sentence. "Luminesque, you're with me. My name is Janus, and I'll be your stylist for the Games. And this is my compatriot-"

"Janus. I'll be helping you, Adrianus," the second man, Janus, says.

"Wait, so you're both named Janus?" Adrianus asks.

"Yeah, that's what our parents named us. Pretty crazy, right?" the first speaker, Janus says.

"Can I call you Janus 1 and Janus 2?" Adrianus asks to both of them.

"Sure, why not," Janus 2 says, as I mentally label them in my head as well. Might as well, because it'll get pretty confusing with them being the exact same. "Now, Adrianus, if you could come this way with me, I'll show you to your prep team." The two of them leave into a doorway to another room, where I can glance three more people in there. Prep teams.

"So, Luminesque, do you want to find out what you're wearing for the parade?" Janus 1 says with a grin.

"Um... no... not exactly..."

"Don't worry! I swear it's not bad!"

* * *

**Thane Storm, age 16, District Four**

Ack. The soap they use in the Capitol burns like crazy, especially when it gets into your eyes. I can't even open my eyes, and my prep team apparently thinks that's a good thing. "Yes, keep your eyes closed, we're working on your hair now," the tallest one, who could either be wearing stilts or have leg alterations says.

"Piff-" I spit some soap out of my mouth.

"Eww!" is the reaction from another member of the team, a lady with completely white hair.

In District Four, white hair is an achievement. I'm pretty sure in the Capitol, you can just go into a beauty parlor and get it dyed in about five seconds. That's how wrong everything here is. People have the weirdest fashion cravings. I've only done one thing with my body, ever, and that was tattoo a lightning bolt to my left calf, an identical tattoo that my brother also has, and my younger brother, who's at home.

I can still see Caleb's enraged face after the reaping, in the Justice Building. We got put in the same room to say goodbye, because we're related and all. He hated me for volunteering, he said that he would be able to win the Games by himself, had I not volunteered. Well, I think the jokes on him. He only thinks with his head, and is really impulsive. I, however, actually think before acting. This will help us both in the Games, plus, me volunteering tips the odds in our favor.

The slogan of the Hunger Games says, "May the odds be ever in your favor!" I hear it almost every day, if you turn on the television. So if I volunteer, that gives our family a 1/12 chance of winning, more than any other tribute can claim. Because one of us needs to win.

"Get out the cans of dye," the tall prep guy says. "We need the exact right color."

"Y-You're dying my hair," I manage to sputter out, because soap is still pouring on my face.

"Yes, we need to dye your hair so it matches your partners'. It's our directives from your stylist. Turn the soap off, will you, Romi."

"Yes sir," the third prep team member, squeaks out, turning a pipe, and I don't feel soap spraying on my body anymore.

"Uh, thanks," I say, bringing up my hands to wipe soap out of my eyes. This is so bad. It took an hour of adjusting, mainly to the fact that there are three people cleaning up my naked body, and I have nothing to cover up with. The prep team at least didn't do a full body hair removal, I doubted they would.

The tall guy sprays some stuff into my hair, and there's a long process where they rinse my head out with this machine. "Okay, I think we might just have it. Let's call Demie in so she can get a look."

Romi, the small lady, brings over a mirror and places it in front of me. "So, how do you look?"

They have dyed my hair dark red. Sort of like an really bright auburn color. It looks weird, seeing it on my head. I look like a vegetable. "Isn't this supposed to take longer? I thought I had to be prepped all day," I ask. The light coming in from the windows suggests that it's about noon.

"We haven't gotten to the difficult part yet," the tall guy says. "Ah, here's Demie right now."

Another tall lady enters the room, but this lady, Demie, is naturally tall. Not freakishly tall like the man on stilts. "Hello, Caleb," the lady says.

"I'm Thane."

"Sorry, I'm new, and got mixed up with the names," Demie says, with a cool, chilling voice. "Would you like some lunch?" I nod, but already realize that servants, Avoxes, have already brought in trays of food. "I need to discuss your costume with you."

I sit down, and start eating the food. I'm immediately overwhelmed by how good the food is. The standard fare at our house is basically mush compared to this. We've never had great food at our house. I'm pretty sure all my siblings would die to even see this much food. I eat as much as I can, naturally. "Enjoying the food?" Demie asks. I nod again. "Well, here, take this towel so you can cover up a bit."

I've been eating this whole meal absolutely stark naked. Wow. Romi giggles in a far corner.

"Now, for your costume, we have two ways of doing it. There's a long and difficult way, or there's the easier way. I'll have to work on you for about three hours or so to get the makeup on correctly. So I've left the choice up to you. Easy or hard?" Demie asks. It sounds formidable, the way she says it, like it'll be the end of the world if I don't follow through.

"The easy way," I say, because three hours of makeup is not going to be fun.

"Alright then. Get Thane some chocolate pudding, please," Demie says, the harshness in her voice gone. Within a minute, there's some chocolate pudding dip, with ripe strawberries on the side. I eat the strawberries, savoring every bite.

I'll need all the food I can get for the arena, so I'll just stuff myself. That'll work pretty well as a strategy.

But after I eat the pudding, I start to feel... tired. Like, I should sleep. "Can I sleep now?" I ask Demie.

"Sure," she answers, with a smile that makes my blood chill. "We've got plenty of tim-"

When I wake up again, I'm sitting on a cold metal table, in the same prep room as before. The light coming in is low, so it must be close to the parade time now. Did Demie just... drug me? I think I just ate some pudding and then fell asleep.

I check out my body in the nearby mirror for a second, and hold in a yell. I look inhuman. Like a monster. No wonder it took them three hours to do the makeup. All the parts of my body that aren't covered in a golden net are made to look like fish scales. I'm a... fish monster, like a bad Capitol muttation they could come up with. This is just crossing the line.

Demie is also standing in the room, smiling. "I told you that was the easy way."

"Is.. Is this stuff washable?" I ask.

"Of course. We don't want you to look like a fish forever. But don't take it off until after the parade."

I really, really feel the need to scrape this stuff off with my fingernails. It itches. But I somewhat smile inside, because if I look this stupid, then imagine the other tributes costumes...

* * *

**Alright, sorry for the late update, but we're almost at the Capitol now!**

**So, how many people liked Thane's costume? Thane's partner is Isis, and she'll be wearing something similar at least.**

**Please review, because those are like candy, and brighten my day. Again, I suggest taking a look at Nalia-R's story. You can actually submit to it without the story being abandoned.**

**Right then, see you next chapter in the Chariot Rides,**

**~Megalor9**


	14. District Four, chariot rides

**UPDATING THE LAST OF THE DISTRICTS:**

**Yep, and the end of the Districts is here. Thanks for sticking with me so far and reviewing. Maybe you're wondering how I'm writing the Capitol chapters after this. I am actually... not sure. In each of the Capitol chapters, there will be 3-4 POVs, and most tributes will get there point of view in before the bloodbath begins.**

**This update's tributes are... Reef Riptide and Caleb Storm (Pinkbookworm and Munamana, respectively). Chariot Rides is the chapter, and excuse me if some of the costumes or any descriptive parts turn out really bad, because I don't like chariot rides. I despise them.**

**~Megalor9**

* * *

**Caleb Storm, age 18, District Four**

"And look what you're wearing," I say to my brother. They've covered him in what looks like fish scales. It looks quite stupid, in my opinion.

"Don't talk, man, it's probably more original than your stylists idea," Thane shoots back in a whisper.

"Sure," I grunt. My costume at least doesn't reveal as much skin as his does. Thane is practically naked save for the golden opaque net covering his groin. Whereas I've got a classic, homestyle fisherman's outfit. Just a hat, a vest, waterproof clothes, fishing gears and lures attached to the vest. It looks like I've just been plucked off the streets of District Four.

"District Four, chariots please! Everyone to the chariots!" one of the stylists says, making large waving gestures with his hands. Tributes start to file in, with my partner being personally escorted by Peacekeepers to our chariot.

Why did I get stuck with the supposedly insane partner? I could hear screams coming through the air vents from the other chariot prep room that we were assigned. I'm not exactly sure what happened to Elvira, but I'm pretty sure they drugged her and put her to sleep. Then they could get a costume on.

"Have fun acting stupid," I tell Thane in a lighthearted voice.

Thane ups his hand around his ear, implying that he can't hear me. "I said have fun acting stupid!" I yell. That's when I notice the loud music that's booming down the streets of the Capitol. Every single bass note that comes out of the speakers resonates in my chest with a buzzing feeling.

"Thanks a lot, jerk!" yells the one person who could actually hear me, Adrianus. Even though it wasn't meant for him, I don't feel bad about saying it to that jerk.

My chariot is up in the front, so I head there, and climb the saddles of the black horses that pull the chariot into the square. Elvira's already there, but when she turns to me, I hear a shuffle of chains, and spot the chains on the floor, leading to her ankle. She's shackled to the floor, but the chains have been colored black so it will blend in with the rest of the blackness of the chariot. So I don't think she'll kill me.

"Hello, pretty," Elvira coos with the slightest smile that seems really deadly to me. But who am I to be scared? I'll snap her neck if she moves toward me. I just keep my jaw set, swallow, and face straight forward. I don't need to look at her.

As the District One tributes roll out of the place, the audience's applause is almost instant. And loud. District One is always a favorite with the Capitol, they love all the shiny gems. The last chariot from one basically has no clothes on, but the two tributes are covered with light reflecting jewels. It may or may not be a brilliant costume idea.

The jewel-covered tributes must be the favorite, because they receive the loudest screams from the fans. I have to admit, the girl on there is really hot, but the guy, not so much. He's not a bodybuilder like me.

I take a moment to study District Two for a bit before they roll out. The chariot right in front of ours, the last of District Two, has the one guy that I took notice of during the reapings, Cyrus Fitz. He looked formidable, and maybe a challenge to the Games. He's really built up, and I admit it, even more so than me. He's probably trained since he was two or something. But right now, he's covered in a gray toga, and holds a giant staff.

District Two starts to move out, and I look back behind me to see how Thane's doing. I make it a point to know where each of my younger siblings are. He's looking really awkward, standing next to his partner who is as scantily clad as he is. They're both just looking around, as if nervous.

Cyrus's chariot starts to move out, the gray specked horses starting to trot, and then I see why Cyrus had a large staff. There must be some electrical doo-dad on it that makes it light up, in a pattern that looks like lightning has struck his staff. Is he one of those ancient god thingies that I learned about in school way back then? I can't tell, or remember any of the gods. But it makes him become the crowd favorite, as the strange faces of the Capitol cheer him on.

I don't think even my costume can match that. "Now entering, District Four's tributes, Caleb Storm and... Elvira Vinneria!" A speaker broadcasts an announcers voice over the loud music, and cheering is immediate, too. The black horses hooked up to my chariot move, and suddenly I'm in the streets of the Capitol, seeing bleachers with millions, no, more than that, number of people clapping, cheering, and taking pictures with those camera things. There's so many flashes I can barely open my eyes. But I can definitely tell a difference in the clapping and cheering that came before my chariot, when Cyrus Fitz went out with his lightning staff. Which, by the way, is still flashing, and I'm pretty sure most of the cheering has mover on to him.

"Now entering, District Four's tributes, Adrianus Johanson and... Lumineques Pygmy!" the announcer says. "Excuse me, audience, it is Luminesque Pygmy! Sorry for the mispronunciation!"

I believe that the announcer mispronounced an earlier name, was it the guy with the long 'Z' name? From One? I'll have to find some tape of the chariot rides later.

But I'm starting to circle around in front of the President's mansion, meaning my Chariot Ride adventure was over in probably less than five minutes. I'm obviously not the favorite here. There's District One, and Cyrus, and I'm probably the worst costume there is. I'm hoping I didn't let down my family.

But there's almost as much applause for Thane's chariot, the fish-people, as there was for District One's chariots. What is it, there are tons of young girls in the crowd that think Thane's attractive? (I snicker. In his own dreams, he is.) And they just couldn't see my muscles through the fisherman's vest? When I look back, I catch his eye, and he grins straight back at me, silently communicating a form of laughter.

I'll have to talk with him when we get to a place to sleep.

* * *

**Reef Riptide, age 15, District Four**

"This costume is too... weird. I don't think this resembles a wave at all. I mean look at it, for me, it's just a blue dress with some sequins, basically," I tell Runyon, as we stand to wait to go into the City Square.

Runyon just keeps looking forward, standing in his sea-green tuxedo type thing. There's a pattern on it that looks like waves, mirroring the seaweed of District Four.

"Can't you hear me?" I say, speaking directly into his ear. He turns his head and his mouth moves. "I can't hear you! It's too loud!" I yell.

He brings his mouth over to my ear. "That's what I was trying to tell you," he says, and in a normal voice. The noise is too loud to hold a conversation for long.

"Fine then," I say. "Wait for after the Chariots."

The clapping and cheering of the Capitol citizens is enormous, especially when the District Two guy makes his staff light up. That brings up so much noise, I have to cover my hands over my ears. Then I realize I'm being filmed on camera, most likely, because they should have camera footage of all the tributes.

Then it's close to our turn, because Caleb and the insane one Elvira roll out, but don't get much applause. I lean to Runyon's ear and talk again. "We need to do something completely different."

"Like what?" he replies.

"Try holding hands. I'm pretty sure that I'll fall off," I tell him back.

"But that would make it seem like we're in love," Runyon replies, as the chariot starts to move forward.

"And you're scared of that?" I say, bringing myself back to full standing position and just grab his hand anyways. Luckily, he keeps his grip, and we ride into the Capitol street, from District Four, as a team.

We get way more applause than Caleb and Elvira, and some people actually throw some flowers. One lands at my feet, and I reach down, pick it up, and throw it back into the crowd. Several people scramble to try and catch it. All the tributes that come here to the Capitol are immediately celebrities. Tomorrow there will probably be shirts with the name Reef Riptide on them. I soak in the applause, and wave back to the crowd. Runyon is still pretty cold-faced, but when I nudge him, he begins to wave at them too, and smile. He's more convincing then I am, an pretty soon, his side of the street is cheering louder than mine.

Did I mention how packed the place was? I don't see any standing room in the whole entire bleachers that were set up along the street to the Capitol square. The majority of the Capitol people have pale white faces, maybe a fashion craze in the Capitol, maybe not.

Our chariot reaches the City Circle, and begins to form a semi-circle around a tower. I see all the chariots, and all the tributes for the first time. It gives me my first taste of doom. _Wow, there's twenty three of them, and they can all kill me._

"Welcome, tributes of the one hundred seventy fifth Hunger Games!" The master of ceremonies booms over the speakers. The crowd suddenly grows quiet, and the loud music stops. "From the Capitol, we all wish you luck, and... _may the odds be EVER in your favor!_" The Capitol people cheer for a bit, while I still have to cover my ears to block out at least some of the noise.

"We do have a message for you tributes, and let me turn the mic over to your own President Lysander!"

A new voice comes over the speaker. It's the President's. I recognize it from the propaganda that is usually played on TVs. He's usually making announcements, but he never comes out to the Districts. "Hello tributes. Now, I hope you all like your chariot costumes, because you'll be wearing those in the arena."

There's a pause there where I'm just panicking. A dress is not the ideal thing to wear into the arena. "Just kidding, folks, don't have a heart attack," Lysander says over the microphone, with a chuckle. "But I do have a slight change here, that the ever so nice Gamemakers have told me to tell you all. On the morning of the Games, you will get to... uh... pick your poison. That's all I can say for now. You'll figure out what it means in a few days."

The loud music comes back on right after that, and all I can think is, "Pick your poison." They're going to poison us before the Games start? Or is it a metaphor? I've always been the smartest girl in the District Four school, but since I know nothing about the President, I can't tell his motives. He could just be saying that just to scare the tributes.

Yeah, that's it, just to scare us, nothing else. I just hope I can convince myself that.

* * *

**Central Hunger Games Control, time 23:27**

"Was that mysterious enough?" President Lysander asked Head Gamemaker Monty.

"Brilliant man, that was brilliant. Great job out there. I was afraid that you'd bungle it up and actually reveal what we were going to do to the tributes before the Games, but you thought of that! Pick your poison, that's genius right there," Monty said back, giving Lysander a slap on the back.

"I... I thought it was good too," Lysander replied, even though he knew he probably scared the tributes, and they wouldn't be able to sleep until that day. "But isn't this idea here a little... strange? I mean, what does it matter that the tributes get to pick what they want in the arena?"

"Oh, Lysander, I thought it would be fit to surprise even you. If I can convince you that the Capitol has complete control over everything, then I've suceeded with these Games. Do you know how long I've been planning this?"

"No," Lysander replied with a shake of his head.

"Twenty-two years, Lysander. Twenty-two years I've waited for the most epic Games ever. But to run them, I needed to be Head Gamemaker. So you know what I did?" Monty asked.

"What? You didn't execute the Head before you, right?" Lysander asked.

"Oh, well, I helped arrange his execution. The 172nd Games? The one with the rebellious Careers? I was with a group of people that sabotaged those Games to get higher up spots. I became Head Gamemaker after it was clear that Dakuma couldn't function any more."

"You did that?"

"Yes. I'll do anything to keep the Capitol in control of everything. I'll do more than you will, Lysander. Think about that. We all know you've got a soft spot for tributes," Monty said, walking away. "I've got another strategy meeting. You can attend, if you wish."

"No thanks." Lysander walked away, sternly. _Monty has too much power,_Lysander thought. _He is my friend, but I'm the President. Can't I just knock him off the position of Head Gamemaker?_

* * *

**Alright then, so the last of the District chapters end with some foreshadowing. So much impending doom, yes? Please review this chapter and favorite, because we've hit 150 reviews.**

**So, only eight chapters to go until the Games. Everyone going to explode, now?I'll start updating faster, writing every day, because I want to get to the Games now.**

**'Till the first Capitol chapter, which will be Training days,**

**~Megalor9**


	15. Training 1

**UPDATE FROM THE VOID:**

**I say I'm going to update faster, but... then I vanish for two weeks. Yup, contradictory me. But as soon as I've got time, I try to write something. I've going through winter sports, and other important writing projects, and the NaNo thing...**

**But here's the first of the Capitol chapters. Enjoy, and review, because I don't want my writing efforts to go completely to waste...**

**Capitol POVs have been completely random. Tributes that don't get a Capitol POV will get a bloodbath POV.**

**~MEGALOR9**

**Kacyan Ciova, age 15, District One**

There are several words I could use to describe the security of the Capitol. Number one is stupid. Number two is tight. I'm pretty sure they don't want us, the reaped tributes, to be stabbing each other before the Games start. So they've searched everyone three times, probably more. That's where the stupid part comes in. Some Peacekeepers found my hidden arsenal of weapons, that I've stored in my sleeves, boots, and even the one I had sewn into my pants.

And so I'm bummed. If someone attacked me right now, I'd have no defense. Does the Capitol want me to be weaponless?

I just rant. There's no way I'll be able to get my blades back. I'll have to find some way to make my own, maybe from the training center. In the party of the few going down the elevator to the training center from District One, three are grinning. Metallic, Excalibur, and Yuu. Barbie whoops with joy once the elevator arrives and opens.

"Ready to kick some butt?" Barbie yells.

"Yeah!" a couple people answer.

The yellers and Barbie immediately run into the room to test out the weapons stations. District Two arrives next, and they head to weapons as well. But the training stations I see available are the survival ones. Stations like how to build a fire, poisonous berries, camouflage, and gathering. I walk over to a saddened and depressed looking trainer at the edible insects station.

"Wait, you want to learn what insects are edible?" he asks.

"Well, I'm over here, right?" I say back.

"But... but.. all the other Careers are at the weapons stations. Why aren't you?"

"Ah, weapons are boring," I answer, trying to keep a straight face. I'm really into weapons. But if I'm to make another blade, I don't want any Careers watching me.

"Oh... great! Thank you so much for visiting! Alright, so the first rule of edibility in insects is the outer exoskeleton. If it's tough, then the insect is probably edible. Probably," the trainer starts out, and then proceeds to lecture me in everything that every happened in the entire history of 'insect eating'. This guy does not have a life apparently, because he tells me he went to a high, advanced school to study insects.

"That's great," I tell him. "What school is that?"

"The Institute of Panem, the world's largest school, right here in the Capitol."

I think back to District One. After you finish the regular schooling, there's not much you can do other than just work in the mineral mines. That's what most graduates do. But if you're extremely smart, then you can study to become a politician or a government worker. But there's no higher-up school of anything in One.

After an hour of listening to this guy, I say goodbye to him, and walk over to the traps and snares place. The trainer seems disappointed that I'm leaving, because apparently I'm his only student so far.

At the snares place, all I do is grab some springs, rope, and tie them together to make a basic snare that sends a knife through a target. A tripwire based trap, designed for people to fall into. If I don't get a knife, this will probably how I'll go through the Games. Trap people, watch them slowly die.

Then I finally head over to the knife station. For an hour, I practice throwing the knife, over and over, until I can at least hit the target every single time, and stick the blade into it. The only person at that station is Metallic, and I doubt she'd notice me just taking the knife, and reaching ever so slowly into my back pocket...

"Hey! Are you trying to take that knife?" Metallic yells.

"Quiet! You don't need to yell," I whisper forcefully to her. "And no, I'm not."

"It looks like it," Metallic says, before going back to throwing her knife at the target.

While she throws, I quickly put the knife into my pocket. It was a near, close shave for me. Then, with that, I go back to the snares, and work on making a spring loaded knife launcher before lunch. But I'm interrupted by lunch anyways.

I sit down with my food at the tables that were set out for the tributes to sit in. Almost everyone eats by themselves, but there's one bigger one, the brute of the tributes, who has seemed to gather his own group. _A Career Pack. Those usually form during the Games. But how do you have the Career Pack when... we're all from Career Districts?_

So those will be the people controlling all the weapons from us normal tributes. I see two girls with the brute from Two, and a couple of guys. They laugh and talk loudly, and I spot Excalibur and... Darkus sitting with him. I assumed Darkus wouldn't be able to be in an alliance... he seemed pretty mentally unstable to me, the times I've seen him. Maybe it's a ruse?

After lunch, I finish up building my spring-loaded knife launcher, and set it up right next to one of the knife throwing targets. After loading a knife into it, I pull out the trigger and it fires, sending a knife into the target. Right where I aimed it. Into the target's 'heart'.

"How'd you do that?" Metallic is still at the knife station. She's in awe.

"I don't know. Maybe I'm just smarter than you," I say. Her target is full of punctures, but nowhere vital. Not like mine, which would kill someone.

After my success there, I look for some other station to challenge my intelligence. Turns out they've added some things since I remember a shot of the training center at the Capitol. There's a swimming pool in another room. There's one tribute in there. And there are guns. Like shotguns and pistols, in another firing room.

_Guns. Who would've thought. _Even though I'm definitely sure there will be no firearms in the actual Games, I think Corix might want to be here. He would say, "Told you so." Maybe I'll get back so I can tell him that.

**Mesa Stone, age 17, District Two**

Nightmares do come true. Half the people from District Two have run off to train with huge swords. I know straight from the start that I won't even be able to pick up one of those. I might be able to use a knife, though. But that won't help. I know straight off that it'll be a rough life for me in the Games, and I'll just have to run from the bloodbath with absolutely nothing.

So I try a skill no one seems to be going for. Swimming. The District Four tributes know how to swim, but none of the other Districts teach that. So that's two-thirds of us that can't swim, and if there's a water arena, I'll be set to go. There is a separate room for the pool, accessible from the main area.

I see nothing to change into to swim in, so I'll just have to use my jumpsuit to swim in. The trainer there introduces themselves as Cresselis, and instructs me on just paddling in the water, and kicking my feet in the water while holding onto the side of a wall. Then I try actually swimming the length of the pool. It's the hardest thing I've ever done, trying to manipulate the water so I can move, and it takes me almost five minutes to get down and back. The worst part is that it takes so long to do the exercise, and an hour drags by extremely slowly. half an hour later, I'm still struggling, but it only takes me four minutes to go down and back. And by the time I'm taken out of the pool to go eat lunch, I can swim down and back in two minutes.

That's nowhere near as good as the District Four kids. I'm still a novice when it comes to swimming. But at least I won't drown like some of the others. Lunch is pretty basic, for the Capitol, as it consists of a red, tomato flavored soup, and assorted vegetables in it.

After lunch, I feel tired like never before. I've never had to work this hard before. I guess you can say I'm a little bit spoiled based off of that. But I've not had any training whatsoever, and the exertion just makes me tired. What I want to do is take a nap right now, but I'd get mocked, and never be able to seriously compete in the Games. No one would take me seriously, and I'd have to fend for myself when it comes to sponsors. I try learning to shoot a crossbow.

It takes longer than swimming to actually start to hit the target with a crossbow. Why does it take me so long to get these things? I see Cyrus just walk over, pick up a spear, and chuck into the target, getting a straight bullseye. He's trained, I tell myself. He gets an unfair advantage. Not me.

I'm now glad that I wrote those letters. I don't think there will be another chance for me to do so. I'll have to train non-stop. I want to get home to my family, so I will. I drop the crossbow, and try running a few laps around the training center. Yes, I really am out of shape. I can barely run laps without tiring out and panting, trying to recover my breath before attempting to run yet again.

I have bleak hopes for these Games. Why'd I have to be reaped? The odds aren't in my favor at all.

**Adrianus Johan, age 16, District Four**

"Adrianus, I suggest you get the hell out of here before I stab you. Or get Elvira to do it."

"You're such the charmer. Why can't you be nice to me? After all, for the moment, right now it's just a friendly competition," I say.

"What competition?" Luminesque asks.

"Oh, just the one that some of the other Careers had earlier. You know, Cyrus Fitz."

"What competition?" she repeats.

"It was an archery competition. Whoever could get the most points on the standard target won, and got to be the leader of their 'Career Pack'."

"And so why are you talking to me?"

"I wanted to finally set our differences apart, and end our constant bickering. I'm really a nice guy when it comes down to it," I say. "You do an hour of archery lessons, and I will, and we'll shoot before lunch. Whoever gets the most points gets bragging rights that they're better."

"You're a nice guy? Bullshit."

"Hey!"

"Have you ever shot a bow before?" Luminesque asks. "I mean, it'd be unfair if you have and I haven't."

"Only twice. I'm not good. And I assume this is a new skill for you?"

"Yeah. And I'll take your bet. I'll beat you any day," Luminesque says as she walks off to the archery station. I follow, so I can learn the bow too. I only thought of this competition so I could get rid of this girl. She seems to try and fight me or start an argument over anything I do or say. She promises to kill me in the Games. So maybe, if she wins and gets the superiority, and bragging rights, she won't feel as inclined to trying and stab me in the heart.

Plus, this is actually even. I saw the Career shooting contest this morning, and they didn't train at all. But the only one who constantly got every arrow on target was Cyrus Fitz, so of course, he was the leader. I don't think anyone else could do that.

Learning the bow is more difficult than it seems. It requires a lot more work than swords do. You don't swing a bow around, you have to pull back, and the muscles you use to do that feel weak.

Plus, you have to make sure that the arrow doesn't fall off. That seems to be the hardest part for me, because the arrow falls off of my bow at least twenty times in the first half hour. When I finally shoot, the arrow flies off over the target, or just goes off in a random direction. Lumi seems to be having the same amount of luck, because we both look about equal. New people to archery.

And it's the afternoon that our hour is over. It's time to shoot. I've only been able to hit the target a couple times.

"Ready?" I say, and grab the bow I've been using, and nine arrows. "You shoot nine arrows, and get the score. Simple enough, right?"

"Let's go, Adrianus. I told you, I'll beat you at anything."

"I doubt it, Lumi."

"Don't call me that. I will rip your head off."

"Just start," I say, and pull back the string on my first arrow. I aim, and release. The arrow strikes the outer ring of the target. I smile smugly. Luminesque's next arrow hits the second to outer ring, giving her a better score than me.

"You were saying?" she wears the same grin. I've already fired my next arrow, which misses the target completely. Her arrow hits again, in the outer ring.

Over the next few minutes, we both string up our bows, taking turns firing on the target, and half of both of our arrows miss. But of the hits, I have the closest one to the center. Luminesque has more hits. It comes down to one arrow that will probably decide the whole shooting contest.

I string up my last arrow, and remember why I even started this. This competition was supposed to create peace, and not start arguments. I might be able to beat her now. But to create peace, I'll need to let Lumi win this one. I fire, and intentionally miss the shot.

"Ha. Were you looking into space or something? I thought you were trying to hit the moon," Lumi taunts as she fires her arrow and actually hits the centermost ring, not a bullseye. "Beat that! Oh wait, you can't," Lumi makes a pouty face. "You got beat at your own game, Adrianus. So I'm the best now, aren't I?"

I look down as if ashamed, and reply, "Yes, yes, you're of course the best. After all, I lost."

"That's right, loser! I've got other things to try out here, so see ya later! Maybe in the Games, you'll die in the bloodbath because you can't shoot a bow." Lumi leaves me and heads to some fire-building station.

I'm not sure that turned out for the best, but I think she doesn't want to kill me as importantly as now.

**Alright, there's the first day of training, and I hope to see some reviews for this chapter, and waiting for the next chapter. Sorry for the absence, and because I might not have all the time in the world to update, I've decided to shorten up the Capitol chapters a bit, so I can get to the Games faster.**

**There will be no changing of the bloodbath deaths now. Those have been decided. There will not be a poll.**

**~Megalor9**


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